The Distance Between Us
by ktfranceebee
Summary: Hermione stumbles upon a door on the third floor corridor. She finds that the music emanating from within keeps her coming back. She will learn she isn't the only person to seek solace by that room. Fic not to be continued.
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter Universe created by the amazing J.K. Rowling.

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Author's Note: This is the first story that I have ever published. I hope to finish it, but I am deathly afraid of getting a writer's block. Wish me luck that it doesn't happen anytime soon.

Enjoy!

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**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter One

Prelude

She sat quietly in the dark, desolate hallway. Her eyes were closed, the back of her head being painfully poked by the sharp, bumpy texture of the castle's stone walls. Her usually wild, bushy brown tresses were pulled back into a plait, serving no purpose in cushioning her skull; but luckily, as a result of her current state, she was blissfully unaware of it.

Her legs were loosely brought up to the front of her chest, and her arms were draped leisurely around them. She was supposed to be doing her rounds as Hogwarts Head Girl, just as she did every night before going to sleep, but at the moment it wasn't a priority. For whatever reason, by the end of her rounds, her legs seemed to carry her on their own, always to the same empty hallway on the third floor corridor. The corridor whose only source of light came from the moon which shone its translucent beams which refracted through the numerous, tall glass windows.

Aside from the windows, there were a series of doors, five, in fact, not counting the entrance to the hallway and the door on the opposite end which led to the statue of the Humpbacked Witch. To the girl's knowledge, four of the rooms contained an unused classroom on its other side. However, the door that was on Hermione Granger's left side most likely didn't hold the usual desks and chairs, but what brought her here the past couple of weeks, a piano.

It wasn't the piano itself that brought her here, having never played a piano in her life; she did, however, play the violin from the age of seven until the age of eleven, before she started attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But considering that it had been six years since she last rested a violin underneath her chin, the majority of the knowledge she had learned about music had vanished into the recesses of her brain, forgotten amongst the vast amounts of other information the inner workings of her mind held.

No, it wasn't the piano that drew her here, but the pristine, enchanting melodies that she could imagine, with her eyes still closed, escaping the heart of the piano that seemed to seep through the crack underneath the door and slither like a snake past the minute keyhole.

She hadn't the slightest inkling who could be creating the beautiful music on the other side of the door. Hermione tried looking through the keyhole, but to her dismay, the piano was nowhere near the periphery of the door. She wasn't curious enough, surprisingly, to find out who was playing by opening the door or even checking to see if the door was unlocked, thus breaking the wonderful spell the music had on her.

Instead, she would just sit as she was doing now, with her eyes closed almost in a state of conscious dreaming, just listening to the music.

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He let the fallboard descend over the keys of the piano with a quiet "snap", carefully as to not let it crush his long, elegant fingers.

His piano.

It was his mother, Eileen Prince, who had taught him to play the piano at the age of seven; that was until his Muggle father, Tobias Snape, put a stop to it before he could learn a decent scale, declaring it too "namby-pamby" for _his_ son to take part in. So it was eighteen years ago when he started teaching that he decided that he would fully learn the art that he appreciated for so long.

There was only one other person in the school who knew about the piano besides himself. He received permission from Albus Dumbledore when he moved into Hogwarts to turn one of the school's many empty unused classrooms, him choosing this one on the third floor, into his sanctuary. Severus Snape hadn't any available room in his quarters for his grand piano, let alone a baby grand, due to it being primarily occupied with bookshelves, and in his spare room which he had turned into a personal lab, potions ingredients.

It seemed to him that everything terrible that had happened in his life - becoming a Death Eater, the loss of his mother, and later his best friend - he didn't have any control over. Well. Aside from becoming a Death Eater... He regretted the choice that he had made and was later able to amend it. At least he thought he could.

He thought that by going to Dumbledore all those years ago after her death that somehow, Dumbledore would be able to help get him out of this mess that he was lured into by means of power; to put a stop to the snakelike puppet-master that was pulling at his strings. But funnily enough, what had seduced him to the dark side-the power that he thought he could hold- was lost altogether, slipping through his fingers like wisps of smoke. Both when he became a Death Eater and when he turned spy for the light. And now, in retrospect, he was only glad that he could have power over himself once more, to not be used at the hands of the two most powerful wizards that ever lived. Oh, the irony.

But that was the past and the monster formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead.

So this was where he ventured to every night when once he had completed all of his assumed responsibilities: finished grading all his papers, made any necessary potions for Madam Pompfrey and her constantly disappearing supply and then finally. When he finished his rounds, he made sure that he ended on the third floor corridor, to enter the second door on the left.

He let his hand rest on the smooth mahogany surface that contrasted against his ghostly flesh before slowly standing up, the scraping of the piano bench against the stone floor waking him from his reverie. He made it to the door and performed a silent and wandless _Alohomora_ on it and then walked silently in the ethereal glow of the moonlight through the corridor to go down to the dungeons, being too exhausted to notice the black school robes that whipped around the corner before him, disappearing into the shadows.

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**_My first chapter and story that I have_ ever_ published! I hope you enjoyed reading it as _****_much as I enjoyed writing it! _**

**_I hope to finish this story. But I don't know how sporadic my updating will be._**

**_Please review! _**


	2. Watching the Clock

Disclaimer: I own no part of the universe created by the incredible J.K. Rowling.

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A/N: Chapter 2! I'm so excited!

Oh. And I should have probably mentioned this in the first chapter, but this is not going to be reliant on Half-Blood Prince so in other words... Dumbly-dore is still alive! It is not reliant on the epilogue, either. But it will, however, contain the majority of the events that took place in Deathly Hallows (except for when Snape was Headmaster). I know, my plotting is odd. 0_o

Okay. On with the story!

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**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter Two

Watching the Clock

I couldn't possibly stand another moment of Professor Binns' droning on. Three-fourths of the class was already asleep with their faces pressed against their pieces of parchment on which they should have been taking notes; instead, they were being used as both makeshift pillows and napkins for their drooling mouths. The few of us who managed to keep ourselves perpendicular to the desks - myself and a few brave Ravenclaws, of course - were threatening to succumb to sleep. Every so often I would see someone's head bob slightly, lower and lower until it would finally reach the desk, hitting it softly with a dull _thunk_. The ghostly form of the former Professor Binns, however, paid no mind to the fact that his lecture was being ignored, as he was far more immersed in the topic than the rest of his class; something about some bloody massacre that took place in the Pennine Hills between the Trolls and the Giants in the sixteenth century. Even I, Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all of Hogwarts, couldn't even pretend to care who the victor was. All I could do was sit in every class period, staring at the hands of the watch on my left wrist. Only this period was far less bearable than the other classes due to Binns' monotone voice floating through my ear canal, thus causing me to stare at the device even more frequently than I would in the rest of my classes.

I was still the bookworm extraordinaire, still obsessive in my schoolwork, so much that I returned to Hogwarts after the war was finally over to complete my seventh year as well as earn my N.E.W.T.s; but ever since I found _that_ classroom, every tome I read, every essay I used to take pleasure in writing, seemed less intriguing than if I were to have read it a year ago.

Even though my schoolwork was my main priority, I felt as if I was living just so I could go down to that same third floor, with the same empty classroom, holding the same piano, being played by the same… I tapped the feathery end of my quill to my chin in thought.

I never really thought much of who could be playing the piano. Was the person male? Female? Was it even a person?

I chuckled quietly to myself at the image in my head of a house-elf, Dobby, in this case, playing a piano with his too long fingers and too short feet, trying to reach the pedals as his stack of hats that I knitted two years ago teetered dangerously upon his head. I shook my head in order to clear it of this ridiculous vision. It was very unlikely that the person playing the piano was anybody but a student. And there was always the possibility that the piano was only charmed to go off at a certain hour every night.

This class was truly driving me to the brink of insanity. There was really no reason for me to be in this class. I had all the required elective classes that I needed to "officially" graduate. I could have had an extra free period to get my work done, and not to mention one less class to do work for; then I would have more time at night to go down to, well… More time to do my "rounds."

I smiled.

I had to use the one free period I had, my fifth period, to attempt to finish my work so I could start my rounds right at curfew. Not that it was a difficult endeavor for me to accomplish. I've even tried to get some of my required reading done at lunch, carefully though, as to not get any food on the book, thus being skinned alive by Madam Pince upon returning it.

Sometimes I wondered if I would have been better off not going back to Hogwarts to finish my N.E.W.T.s, like Harry and Ron. However, I knew deep down that had I not returned, all that I had worked for my previous six years would have gone to waste: all the Time-Turner business and extra classes my third year; all of the studying.

_"All of the essays I corrected, and even wrote, for those two!" _I thought bitterly, blowing a piece of hair out of my face that had escaped the messy bun from the back of my head. "And then they thought that they could just leave me here."

There was no justifiable reason for me to be truly mad at them. We all went our separate ways, still seeing each other quite often, of course. The last time being about a month ago at Grimmauld Place, which the three of us cleaned top to bottom, both by magic and to Ronald's dismay, by hand, in order to make it habitable once more.

Ron, who had always been envious of Harry's limelight, now had his own opportunity to live in it for once, but only as a replacement Keeper for his favorite Quidditch team, of course, the Chudley Cannons. Remarkably, Ron's performance had improved, and he was likely to have a chance at playing professionally in the next couple of years. But aside from being a substitute Keeper, Ron began working alongside George at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke shop, giving him the opportunity to make some Galleons that were coming in by the cauldron-full, and not to mention his presence seemed to be helping both of them cope with the loss of George's twin, Fred.

During the hunt for Horcruxes, Harry nearly decided against becoming an Auror and not working for the Ministry of Magic. But as the result of Scrimgeour's death and Kingsley Shacklebolt being declared new Minister of Magic, he felt that positive changes would be taking place which would turn around his, and many others', view of the once skewed magical government.

I let out a strangled sigh and pushed back the sleeve of my uniform robe, then smiled.

Three… Two… One…

Binns was interrupted in the middle of his sentence by the bell. I heard him say something about picking up where we left off tomorrow (not that I knew where that was) as I neatly, yet quickly, packed up my books and parchment, shoving them to the bottom of my bag before I bounded out the door for third period, Potions. Even Professor Snape and his class was far more tolerable than History of Magic.

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Severus leered at the backs of the third years who were all obviously, and with good reason, trying to be the first person to escape his vicinity, causing a nasty bottleneck effect around the frame of the door. He stifled the growl that he could feel forming in the back of his throat, ready to surface and escape his lips as he leaned back in the chair behind his desk, covering his face with his hands. It was only second period and his patience was already being pushed to its breaking point by the second and third years.

Once the room was empty, Severus pulled uncomfortably at the constricting collar around his neck. Although it had been four months since Voldemort's damned snake pierced the lean flesh of his neck, the two pale circles of scar tissue - the only evidence left - would still twinge painfully from time to time, as if they were still fresh.

It was already a month into the school year, as well, and the dunderheaded students were still managing to melt, and even more frequently, blow up, their cauldrons. That meant that by the end of the day, Severus would need to make more potions to restore Madam Pomfrey's supply of burn paste and other potions, such as Deflating Draughts, for the unfortunate students who managed to spill certain potions on their appendages, resulting in disastrous, yet humorous, effects.

Severus' eyes squinted slightly by the smirk forming on his face upon remembering yesterday's disastrous events. A clumsy, second year Hufflepuff by the name of Dylan Albright, whose aptitude rivaled that of Neville Longbottom's, added the wrong order of ingredients. He, adding the chopped flobberworms before the pufferfish eyes - as if the instructions weren't written both in his Potions book lying upon his desk and on the chalkboard before him - caused the potion to become unstable and resulted in the reaction that Severus forewarned of at the beginning of class. The students in the proximity of what was left of Albright's cauldron were spattered in various places with the sticky brown paste, causing the class to go into a commotion consisting of floppy earlobes, asymmetrical buttocks and overly large feet that tripped even those who weren't covered in the noxious potion. Once everyone who was injured fled from the classroom to go to the hospital wing, the headache pounding above Severus' right eye was larger than the number of students who remained.

After the war, Severus had the difficult decision presented to him by the Headmaster as to whether he wished to continue to teach or to take, as Dumbledore called it, a sabbatical. If he chose to leave, he could retire for a couple of years to Spinner's End until he felt comfortable enough to teach once more. Or, if he chose to stay, continue to teach Potions amongst the stares of the students who knew of the role he had played during the war, as it was most likely plastered all over the Daily Prophet, not that Severus bothered reading it anymore.

The thought of having to return to Spinner's End made him feel nauseous; that house held too many bad memories. He knew he wouldn't be able to cope with the sight of his mother's aging, upright piano; not yet.

_"Not to mention that I'm too young to retire,"_ Severus thought ruefully to himself.

Realizing that no matter what he decided, there would be negative outcomes with either choice he made... So, he decided on the former.

He stopped attempting to loosen his collar as the seventh year students entered the classroom and routinely took their seats.

Despite it being nearly one month through the school year, one face still stood out to Severus more than the others. Hermione "The Know-It-All" Granger; the only person besides Potter who was there the night "it" happened (Severus refused to think of it as his "almost death," the words sounding far too bittersweet in his mind).

It was still strange to see her flanked by both Lovegood and the Weasley girl instead of Potter and the youngest male Weasley.

_"Good riddance."_ He was glad they were finally gone; Potter, indubitably, as he was a reminder of his hatred for his father and his love for...

Severus could hardly call what he felt for Lily, love; not anymore. No longer did he feel the yearning ache below his left clavicle that was usually associated with any thoughts of her; not since giving his memories away to Potter. He cringed slightly at the memory.

Tenderness, maybe; it was an accurate enough description, meaning both affection and pain. There was never anything romantic between the two of them, as much as he wanted there to be.

But being free of the memories of her that he had been burdened of for so long, there was one emotion that he was feeling.

Liberated.

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_**I really wanted this to be longer, but this seemed like a good place to stop.**_

_**The name of this chapter, Watching the Clock, is a piano piece by my favorite pianist David Nevue. **_

**_Please review! ¿Por favor?_  
**


	3. Contemplation

Disclaimer: I own no part of the fictitious world of Harry Potter created by the pulchritudinous Joanne Rowling.

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**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 3

Contemplation

I walked into the Potions classroom along with Ginny and Luna. It certainly was difficult getting used to being in the same classes as my other classmates who were supposed to be a year beneath me, but even odder than that was not being able to see my two best friends every day.

Ginny and Luna, although they could never replace Harry and Ron, were welcome company, especially when it came to having someone to talk to during classes, and eat with in the Great Hall. It had been a long time since my first year, but I could still remember the suffocating loneliness that I felt before befriending Harry and Ron, and it was similar to the way I was feeling now: An outcast. At that time it was for being the annoying know-it-all, and now it was because of my role in the war: for being the brains amongst the brawn of the Golden Trio. Seeing how a month had passed, I thought that the amount of stares that were being cast at me would lessen, but to no avail. It wasn't as bad a situation as my first year, but it made me uncomfortable nonetheless.

Professor Snape stood up from where he was sitting at his desk and walked to the front of it as we made our way to our usual seats in almost in the center of the classroom, mine being to the right of Luna, Ginny in front of us, sharing her desk with a Hufflepuff girl.

As we sat down, Luna whispered dreamily to me, "Hermione? Why is Professor Snape staring at you?"

I slipped on one of the rungs of the stool and nearly toppled off of it at her remark. My oversized bag that was still hanging from my shoulder provided as a counter balance, allowing me to stay upright. I managed to chance a glance at Professor Snape who was, indeed, staring at me with his arms crossed in front of him, looking like he was just force-fed one of Dumbledore's lemon drops.

I dropped my gaze down to the desk as I saw Luna out of my peripheral vision continuing to talk, her thumb and index finger of her hand rubbing her chin, looking up as if she were addressing the ceiling. "I don't see how he can be in such a bad mood already. Maybe breakfast didn't agree with him. I think it was the pumpkin juice." She rubbed her stomach and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. I think I'm feeling it too." Her facial expression changed to match that of Professor Snape. It was impossible not to laugh at Luna. I snorted and attempted to stifle my laughter with my hand. However, I was soon cut short as his voice reverberated off the dungeon walls.

"Well, Miss Granger, would you care to tell us what you find so amusing, or am I allowed to start teaching my class now?" As if his stare wasn't intense enough, the entire class was staring at me, some even turning around in their seats to get a good look at me. I could see the delightful smirk growing beneath his two inky black veils of hair framing his face. I could feel each individual blood vessel in my face working furiously to fill my cheeks with the hot liquid. I said nothing and resumed to my staring at the black surface of the work table, wishing I wore my hair down so I could hide my now blushing face. It seemed that every day I was the object to whom Professor Snape projected his anger upon.

I felt that all the attempts that I had made to impress Professor Snape the last seven years had gone to waste, so much so that I didn't even try anymore.

I wasn't looking so much for appraisal (I had received enough of that from the other teachers), as much as I needed to hear, from him, that I was doing the lesson better than the usual "adequate" that was written in crimson cursive on the top of my assignments.

During our fifth year, all the students had to speak with their Head of House as to what career path we wished to pursue once we graduated. Mine at the time was, and was still today, to become a Potions Mistress.

There wasn't anybody in this room, I could wager, who understood the speech that Professor Snape gave to all of the first Years the first day of school about the beauty and science in the art of Potion Making. I needed to hear from one of the Wizarding World's best Potions Master that I was intelligent and capable enough to become a Potions Mistress, myself.

I convinced myself that this was the reason I've tried so persistently to impress Professor Snape, even though I knew that wasn't the case; or at least only half of it.

The respect that I had attained for him that first day of school grew though the years. Despite all of the cruel and callous insults he had thrown at me, his demeanor, as well as his authority, demanded respect - demanded respect from everyone. But unlike the rest of my peers, that respect that I had for him blossomed into admiration. I couldn't understand what enabled me to admire such a cold and indifferent person. I supposed that it was his intelligence and talent which caused me to do so. But only a few months ago, on the day of the battle, everything was made so very clear to me.

I had never been so sure of my feelings than when Severus Snape lay in his own blood, dying on the cold floor of the Shrieking Shack. I had never in my life been so frightened and affected by anything, so much that I still have dreams riddled with sharp fangs, screaming, and the same high-pitched voice that I was positive Harry always heard in his dreams.

And that was the day I believed that the one person who I had true feelings for, more so than any superficial _crush_ I've ever had (I cringed slightly, remembering Gilderoy Lockhart and Viktor Krum), was dead.

But that was no longer the case, as by some miracle that I knew not of, he sat behind his desk, glaring menacingly at us as we worked in silence on our potions.

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After leaving his class to proceed in making their potions, Severus' mind continued to wander as he stared at the Granger girl.

The night of the attack, Severus had willingly given up his memories to Potter. He wondered if Potter bothered, or even had time that night to look at them. If he did look at them, and if he was anything like his father, he would have blabbed about their contents to Granger and Weasley and anyone else who would listen.

Severus felt a surge of bubbling anger rise in his throat like bile. The only reason he gave those memories away was because he didn't believe he was going survive, and therefore, not have to face the embarrassment that he was feeling now. It wasn't a good feeling; it wasn't one that he usually associated himself with.

But for now, as long as Potter was "out of sight, out of mind," he wouldn't let himself be bothered by it. Instead, Severus stood up from behind his desk to sweep about the classroom to criticize the seventh year's Potions, in the hopes of deducting a couple handfuls of House Points in order to vent his frustrations.

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_**This chapter's title Contemplation is a marvelous piano piece by the incredible Jim Brickman.**_

_**Thanks again for the reviews! I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas (or whatever you may celebrate!) and a fantastic New Years so far!**_

_**Please Review!**_


	4. A Moment Lost

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter world created by J.K. Rowling.

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**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 4

A Moment Lost

I could tell I was nearing the end of my rounds as I noticed the moon floating higher in the sky as I quietly hastened past a window. I stopped walking and let my hands and my forehead rest lightly on the cool stone surface of the wall. I took a deep breath, inhaling the antiquated scent of the wall, and then released the air inside my lungs slowly; awaiting my verdict, peeked slyly around the corner.

Empty.

There was nobody down the corridor, so with a smooth, sure pace so that my footsteps wouldn't echo off the walls, I walked to the door. But I didn't have to worry about anyone hearing me, as with each step I could hear tonight's lullaby growing a little bit louder and clearer, surely masking any noises I made. I didn't hesitate until I just barely reached the door and, as if on command, I lowered myself into my usual position against the wall.

I found myself staring through the closest window in front of me. I gazed at the moon until I could only see a portion of it as a glittering speck upon the top corner of the window. It was when it finally disappeared that I felt my eyes to droop shut, leaving me in a content sleep.

But it didn't last long.

"Sleeping on the ground Miss Granger?" My eyes snapped open at remarkable speed by the cheerful voice, to be greeted with what I could only assume in the now darkening hallway to be purple night robes. I tried to process what was happening as I took in the figure before me as quickly as I could. I jumped up from my position when my eyes took in the long white beard of the Headmaster.

"Prof- Professor Dumbledore, I-" I stammered, smoothing out my wrinkling robes. The Headmaster only smiled kindly as I failed miserably in forming any complete sentence. I took a deep breath.

"The last time I slept on the ground, Miss Granger, I woke up with the most terrible backache."

"Professor, I was only doing my rounds and I-" His aging hand that he held up silenced my speech.

"Do not worry, Miss Granger. You are not in trouble. As you can see by my state of dress," he flourished his hand down the length of his sleep robes, "You are clearly not the only person that was lured here this evening."

I tried opening my mouth to interject. But he held his hand up once again and continued.

"I was actually just in my tower a moment ago, halfway through my nightcap and in mid sentence of "Charm Your Own Cheese" by Greta Catchlove, when I was overcome by the sudden urge to go down to the _Third Floor Corridor._" He inclined his head to stare at me over his half-moon glasses.

"You may not know this, Miss Granger, but _magic_ not only exists in wands, or people, or creatures, but can exist, as you can see, in _music_." He started to pace a small distance, back and forth, as he explained.

"Usually, depending on the player, the people who tend to be affected from it's spell are people who are in some way emotionally connected to the person." He turned back to face me again and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins."And in this case, only you and I are afflicted by the music that is coming from that piano behind _that _door." He motioned with his head towards the door. "You may not know this, but I have been coming to this room for the past-oh- 18 years or so. I understand why I am under this music's spell, and in time, have been able to withstand its hold on me, but now I am wondering why _you _have been affected by the spell." He paused.

"So tell me Miss Granger... Exactly how often have you been coming to this very room?" His smile was both knowing and unnerving.

I opened my mouth in confusion. What exactly was he implying? Professor Dumbledore chuckled, eyes squinted with mirth, shaking his head as if the gears that were spinning wildly in my brain were evident on my face. "You know, Miss Granger," he said, still laughing and now wiping a tear from his eye, "I don't blame you. He does play quite well." Before I could even question his statement, I heard a door open from behind and felt my hair move from the "whoosh" of air that was a result of the door opening with such force.

"What the _hell _is going on?"

I didn't have to turn around; I knew that voice from my dreams, my nightmares... and from being in this _bloody_ school for 7 _bloody _years. But I turned around anyways, with my mouth agape.

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Severus let his hands glide over the ebony and ivory keys. He savored the warmth that spread like flames licking at his heart. He closed his eyes; he didn't need them open to know where the keys were. Despite the war being over and the reason for creating this room no longer plaguing him, he still ventured there to play, especially on the more stressful days, which was every day. Here he was able to focus his frustrations and incorporate them into his music, which was a much better option than sending an Unforgivable at a incompetent student.

He allowed himself to pound the keys harder, building into a crescendo. Had anyone else been in the room at the time, he would have been quite the sight to behold: his hair hung around his face, his back arched gracefully over the keys. Upon his sforzandos, his hands were pale spiders dancing about the keys. He neared the end of the song and he felt his body relax into the diminuendo. He opened his eyes though, as he thought he heard a noise. He stopped playing, but with his foot on the pedal, the note sustained for a moment, hanging in the air like fog until it finally dissipated. He thought, at first, that he was just imagining what he could now make out to be voices, but now he could hear them faintly through the door from where he was sitting on his bench.

A male? _And_ a female?

He stood up sharply, excited by the opportunity to take some House Points, and maybe hand out a couple of detentions to what could only be two frisky teenagers out of bed.

He strode purposefully to the door, his robes billowing like a black cloud behind him. As he reached the door he silently cast a _Alohomora _and grabbing the handle, yanked it open, carefully though, not to reveal the contents of the room to the outsiders in the corridor.

"What the _hell _is going on?"

The two standing near the threshold were the last two people that he would have expected to see at this time of night, and the last two people he wanted to see, period.

Hermione Granger was facing a smiling Dumbledore in nauseatingly purple night clothes. She need not have turned around in order for him to know it was her. Her unruly hair gave her away.

She turned around, her chocolate eyes meeting his obsidian. He had never seen so many facial expressions on one face in such a short time. And as a spy, he was quite adept at reading them. First there was confusion in her face, which was quickly replaced with surprise. Then it slowly changed to... realization? As her mouth formed into an "o". And then from the red stain in her cheeks and the fact that she looked away from his gaze, embarrassment.

Severus then directed his gaze at the Headmaster whose smile seemed to grow tenfold at this and was looking back and forth between Severus and Hermione, repeatedly.

"Well...?" He growled, growing impatient.

Dumbledore looked at him. He clasped his hands behind him and began to bounce merrily on the balls of his feet.

"Ahhh..." The Headmaster said, clearly in thought, not the least bit phased by being questioned by his inferior. "Well, Severus. Miss Granger and I were just in the middle of a chat. She happened to be doing her rounds, and I... Well... It _seems_ that I was sleepwalking." He held his arms out to his sides and looked down to emphasize his get-up.

Severus looked between Dumbledore and Hermione once more. Hermione was now looking down at the ground in front of her, chewing her bottom lip, and Dumbledore still smiling, eyes twinkling like stars.

"Miss Granger. I don't care if you are doing your _rounds_. Its past curfew; Go back to your Common Room," He snarled, before adding, "And five points from Gryffindor."

She didn't hesitate a second; she quickly turned around and walked down the hallway as fast as she could without running. Severus watched her back until she disappeared. When she did, Snape turned on Dumbledore, his long finger poking his chest.

"I don't know what you are playing at, _old man_, but don't think for one second that I believed your little _story_.

Dumbledore merely rubbed the spot where he was poked and in mock obliviousness said, "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about, Severus, my dear boy. But if you don't mind," he cover his mouth with one hand and stretched the other arm up in the air, feigning a yawn, "I do think I will be going back to bed now." Snape scoffed at him and with a sneer on his face walked past Dumbledore to exit the same door that Hermione just went through. The Headmaster, however, stayed, still smiling where he stood.

* * *

Albus had seen that look before. That look on Hermione Granger's face was one short of sheer terror. He shook his head. He understood the connection that_ he _had to Severus' music. Severus was just a little bit older than Hermione when Albus rescued him from the clutches of the Dark Lord. Having never had children himself, Albus looked at Severus as if he was his own flesh and blood. He had never been so proud to know that grumpy, curmudgeon of a man than he was now.

And as soon as he explained his connection to Severus to Hermione, was he able to make sense of her connection as well. Albus chuckled quietly to himself before he knelt down to assume the seat on the ground that Hermione just vacated.

"20 points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger." He said out loud, before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep in the now dark, vacant corridor.

* * *

"Mulled Mead."

I coughed out the password, out of breath from running up four flights of stairs. The Fat Lady tossed around asleep in her frame.

"Sure, Vi, a could do for another glass." Any other day, I would have giggled at the Fat Lady talking in her sleep. The portrait flew open, and Hermione crawled through the portrait hole.

She was greeted by Ginny who sat up from the overstuffed, scarlet armchair from where she was probably sleeping.

"Hermione, there you are." She stretched, yawning from just waking up. "I was just about to go up to- Hermione? Are you alright?" Ginny stood up, face etched with concern.

I probably looked as bad as I felt, considering I felt as if I was going to throw up my dinner of ham and steamed carrots.

"Yeah, Gin. I'm fine. I'm just tired." I faked a smile. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I'm going to go up to bed. I'll see you in the morning, okay?" I was never a good liar. I left a befuddled looking Ginny before she could say anything or follow me up into the Head Girl's room.

I was thankful, especially tonight, for having my own room to myself. Truth be told, it wasn't just a bedroom by itself, but essentially my own common room, bedroom and bathroom as well.

I threw the door open and walked past my navy blue sitting area in front of a marble white fireplace flanked on either side with bookshelves as high as the ceiling. I changed the bright scarlet and gold colors of Gryffindor the first day of school.

I entered my bedroom and kicked off my shoes and then plopped onto my back on my four- poster bed without changing my clothes. I tried to control my breathing. I still felt nauseous. Professor Dumbledore didn't have to say his complete thoughts for me to not know what he meant by my _connection _to Severus Snape. I felt cold, so I struggled to remove my outer robes that were beginning to get twisted around my legs, and then crawled underneath the thick goose feather comforter. I closed my eyes in hopes of only seeing the blackness of my eyelids, but instead, I was bombarded with images of a certain Potion's Master playing a beautiful piano.

I knew that any attempts I made of falling into a blissful sleep would be a futile effort.

* * *

_**Thanks to you all that reviewed Chapter 3. **_

_**What can I say? Dumbledore! I wanted him to have a fun part in this story. I had an awesome time writing his part. I hope you enjoyed it, as well. I think my Dumbledore screams Richard Harris. :]**_

_**The title of this chapter, A Moment Lost, is a piano piece by David Nevue.**_

_**Please Review!**_


	5. Coming Home

Diclaimer: I have nothing on J.K Rowling. Her ideas are far more amazing than mine. I am in no way making any money off of this. Just having a bit of fun.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 5

Coming Home

The resounding crack of the apparition echoed in the clearing before the towering gates of Hogwarts. It was early morning and the dazzling saffron sun was ascending over Hogwarts castle, mingling with the clear blue sky, casting it's rays over the surrounding mountains and the Black Lake, as well.

Harry Potter breathed in a sigh of relief, still being slightly anxious about the concept of apparition, as anyone would be when loss of limb was a possible side affect. Flying was naturally his first choice of transportation, but he would have had to leave Grimmauld Place before the weekend sun rose in order to not be seen floating on a Broomstick over Muggle London.

Harry smiled contently to himself and walked leisurely across the dewy grass and bare spots where the earth peaked through. As he reached the ajar entrance, he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the outermost rung of the cool, steely gate. He was delighted at the sight, knowing that only the usual wards, the one's that kept Muggles at bay, remained. The wards that kept Voldemort and his followers out were no longer necessary.

Harry stared up ahead at the looming castle in the distance and he knew:

He was home.

* * *

It was seven in the morning and the enchanted ceiling mimicked that of the dawning sky outside. Anybody in their right mind would still be asleep in their common rooms, considering it being a Saturday.

Hermione sat at the empty Gryffindor Table, in the middle of the empty Great Hall. The silence that surrounded her seemed even more deafening than when it was full during the weekdays as chattering students would attempt to scarf down breakfast before the bell would ring for their first period. The only noises present were the occasional soft "thud" of her setting the goblet of pumpkin juice upon the surface of the table and the scribbling of her quill upon parchment.

In Hermione's left hand she held on to the crusty edge of a piece of half eaten buttered wheat toast and in her right, a Snowy Owl Quill, a birthday present courtesy of Harry from her eighteenth birthday (He still hadn't bought a new owl after Hedwig's unfortunate death more than a year ago and relied on the owls available at the Ministry to send letters). She was carefully taking Transfiguration notes while avoiding dipping her quill into the jam jar sitting to the right of her next to the ink well. Taking another bite of toast she heard the ancient creaking of the Great Hall doors being pushed open.

Picking up her napkin, Hermione wiped the crumbs away from the edges of her mouth as she took a sidelong glance to the right to see who was entering the Great Hall this early in the morning.

She was glad she already swallowed her piece of toast as she squealed and dropped her quill on top of her open Transfiguration book to jump up and run over to greet a grinning Harry who was striding past the long House tables towards her.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"Hey, 'Mione." Harry greeted her, returning her hug.

"What are you doing here? Have you eaten anything? Why didn't you write to say you were going to visit? How's Auror training?" She interrogated him in one breath.

"Geeze, Hermione!" Harry said, laughing joyfully. "You haven't changed much have you?"

"It's only been a month, Harry." Hermione reminded him. "I haven't changed much in the seven years you've known me, so what makes you think I would change in a month?"

"I don't know." Said Harry, sitting down, and Hermione resuming her seat next to him. "It seems like an eternity since I was last here. And it definitely looks a lot better from the last time I was here, too." He looked up, as if reminiscing, at the scarlet and gold Gryffindor Banners hanging above them. Hermione had never seen him look so at ease, and young, and happy; the weight of the world no longer on his shoulders. He did seem slightly nervous about something as he helped himself to some coffee. She let go of it, for now.

"Since when did you start drinking coffee?" Hermione smiled, nudging him playfully with her elbow. Harry smirked.

"Only since Auror training. I need something stronger than tea to keep me _alert_." He poured the dark, steaming liquid from its container into his mug, and then spooned three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into it, causing Hermione crinkled her nose in silent disgust at the sight. Harry then stirred it a couple of times, and took a gulp.

"If only I actually liked the way it tasted." Harry grimaced, and then laughed with Hermione, just like the old days.

"So." Hermione began. "Are you going to answer any of my questions?"

"Didn't I just answer one?" Teased Harry. Hermione gave Harry her best motherly stare that could have rivaled any look Mrs. Weasley could have bestowed upon them.

Harry put his mug down, and then, resting his elbows on the table, he put his face in his hands. After sighing into his palms and then running his fingers up and through his unruly black hair making it possibly even more disheveled, he looked at her again. "There's something that I need to do; something that has been bothering me and something that I've put off for too long." Concern etched in Hermione's face and she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Harry? Is everything alright?"

"It's not a big deal, Hermione, really. It's just... Well. The reason I'm here is to see, well... Professor Snape." He finally got it out.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned. "Why do you need to...?" Before Hermione could finish her sentence, Harry's hand had disappeared into the inside pocket of his robes, and when he removed it he held a flask in his hand; the same flask that Hermione had conjured for Harry in order to collect Professor Snape's quicksilver-like memories that she remembered had so vividly poured out of his body as he took what would have been his last gasping breaths.

Harry had returned the flask to his robes, and she was still staring at his hand where the flask once was. She shook her head, breaking her stupor.

"So..." she said."Did you... You know... Look at them?" Harry merely nodded.

"But I don't think I should talk about-" Hermione broke him off before he could finish his sentence.

"No. I know, Harry. I wasn't going to ask you to." She reassured him. Harry smiled gratefully.

"I should probably get going." Harry said, downing the last of his coffee and then placing his mug heavily upon the table.

"I don't know, Harry. It's still kind of early. I don't think you want to get your head bitten off from waking Professor Snape up."

"I can't imagine Snape being one to sleep in on the weekends," He paused in thought while getting up from his seat, and then he added, "or to even sleep."

"Professor Snape, Harry." She reminded him, standing up as well.

"Yes, Mother." Harry said smiling, the statement not bothering him as much as it did Hermione. She frowned, and he ignored the sad look on her face. He continued, "And anyways, I was planning to see Professor Dumbledore first, anyways."

* * *

Harry descended the rotating, spiraling stairs that lead to the Dumbledore's Tower. There was no motive as to why he wanted to see the ancient man, except to visit.

Harry had actually returned every once in a while, mostly to help with repairing the damages that were a result of the war. During a visit, Dumbledore asked Harry if he would return every so often to keep the ancient man up to date on all that Harry was doing with his Auror career, thus eliminating any feelings in Harry that he was only useful to Dumbledore in the downfall of Voldemort. This made Dumbledore seem like more of a grandfather figure than a former teacher to Harry.

Harry made his way to the Grand Staircases to go down to the too familiar Dungeons. He took the stairs slowly, hardly in a rush to complete his objective. He entered the arched passageway and immediately felt the cold, damp sensation that was associated with the Dungeons of Hogwarts. He continued to walk the corridor that led to where Snape's office and classroom were found; he past the same dark alcoves and hallways that he would pass everyday while he was still a student. Decorative aqueducts lined the hallways giving Harry the feeling that he was walking through a combination of a prison and a coliseum.

Eventually, Harry made it to the entrance of Snape's office whose door contained a ornate silver serpent door-knocker. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry took a steadying breath and grabbed the body of the snake and knocked firmly on the wooden door three times.

* * *

_**I apologize for the delay. I've been very busy with school, finding scholarships for college, and family etc.  
**_

_**Just another **_**filler**_** chapter, I guess you can say. And if you were expecting to see Dumbledore... Sorry to disappoint you. He won't be important in the coming chapter. But hey! Our favorite Golden Boy has made an appearance!  
**_

**Coming Home**_** is a song by John Hinson.  
**_

_**Thanks to all those who reviewed (as well as the anonymous 'flame'). Your kind words (and critique) sustain me. Much love. :)  
**_

_**Please Review!**_


	6. Words Left Unsaid

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter Universe created by the amazing J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 6

Words Left Unsaid

Harry waited for any life on the other side of the door to let itself be known to him. It had been about a minute since he knocked on the door, and now he was waiting-rather stupidly- for the Professor to open the door. Hermione was right: It was still early. Harry surmised that Professor Snape could be in his quarters, and even though he could guess that they were somewhere in the dungeons, Harry did not know where they could be amongst the vast amount of tunnels dispersed throughout the school.

Just when Harry was going to give up hope on finding the Potions Master, he heard a pair of light footsteps coming around the corner.

* * *

After having his morning cup of black coffee- and then a second- Severus headed to his office in the Dungeons. The majority of the school was more than inclined to believe that his quarters were in the Dungeons along with his office and classroom, as well; but that hadn't been so since the previous year. As much as Severus had considered the thought of returning to Spinner's End after The War, he decided that he would continue to teach; his only stipulation being that his quarters be moved from the Dungeons to a higher level. This was so he wouldn't have to face the memories that plagued him of when he would return to the castle after a not-so-pleasant Death Eater meeting, along with the miserable, sickly feeling the Dungeons provided anyone that entered.

And speaking of feeling sick, Severus felt just so as he turned the corner to his office and saw none other than, "_The Boy-Who-_Bloody_-Lived."_

"Potter, wasn't seven years of my having to teach you enough torture for the both of us, that now you decide to _grace me_ with your presence by means of a weekend rendezvous?" Sneered Professor Snape as he walked briskly in his direction, his robes, as usual, were billowing effortlessly behind him.

"Actually, Professor Snape," Harry said in mock cheerfulness, "I'm sorry to say that it was only _six _years that you taught me, as last year…" Harry trailed off as Professor Snape glided past him, seemingly uninterested in what he had to say. Harry watched the back of Professor Snape as he performed a complex unlocking spell on the door handle. Once Snape got it unlocked and slipped his wand back into the many folds of his dark robes. He looked as if he was ready to steal away into his office and slam the door in Harry's face.

Before he could do so, Harry stopped him by catching the door with his hand behind he could close it and speaking calmly to him.

"Professor Snape, I didn't come here to bother you, I need to talk to you about something import-."

"Potter, I'm not here for you to play psychologist with by listening to your petty problems. You will see that that is a job more suiting for the Headmaster." Snape said, voice dripping with disdain. "Now, I suggest you _leave." _He made to shut the door, closing it a fraction of the way despite Harry's hand being in the way, before, much to his surprise, Harry uttered just a single word.

"No."

Severus had to prevent himself from shaking his head violently in disbelief, as if he might have misheard him. He stared darkly at Harry.

"What did you say?"

"No." Harry shrugged, releasing his hold on the door, Professor Snape no longer attempting to shut the door. "I'm not afraid of you, Professor. I don't have to worry about you docking any House Points away from Gryffindor or you giving me a detention, and even if you could, I would probably still be here anyways." Harry waited patiently with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. After a few moments of the two of them just staring at one another, Severus moved away from the door and opened it wider, saying, "Get in."

Snape left the door open for him and walked to the middle of his office as Harry passed the threshold into the point of no return.

"Shut the door behind you." He said commandingly, waving his hand, creating a sweeping motion, resulting in the unlit candles on the walls to twinkle to life as flames danced upon their wicks, respectively. Harry obeyed.

Professor Snape sat down behind his desk, neatly folding his hands on the desk in front of him so that his fingers interlaced between one another.

Everything in the office was the same: There were still slimy Potions ingredients floating in liquid in jars of different sizes from behind his desk, the contents making Harry feel slightly nauseous; not that he wasn't already.

The last time Harry was in this room was during his Occlumency lessons his Fifth Year. The memories of that day began to flood into the front of his mind: Harry looking into the Pensieve; A younger Severus Snape being teased and hung upside down by Harry's father James and Godfather Sirius; A considerably older Severus Snape shaking him by the arm in anger and throwing him out of the classroom, all the while hurling jars of various Potions ingredients at him.

The time before that was during Harry's Second Year when he and Ron flew the Ford Anglia to school, crashing it into the Whomping Willow, leaving Snape to find them and threaten the two of them with expulsion.

"Well, Potter, is it your intention to waste my whole day, or are you going to sit down?" The Professor seemed to look at Harry's face for just a moment before looking away to avoid Harry's gaze. And Harry knew why.

"Thank you, sir." Harry sat down in the hard, straight backed chair in front of him. He took a deep breath, realizing that he didn't put much thought into what he was going to say. There was only one logical place for Harry to start.

"I want to apologize, sir." Snape flinched slightly, and a crease of puzzlement forming between his brows. If he was shocked at all, he was hiding it quite well. He didn't say anything and Harry continued.

"There were many times throughout the years I was here that I doubted your allegiance to The Order and to Dumbledore, and I shouldn't have." Harry took a deep breath. Snape was stock-still, except for the muscle working in his jaw as his teeth clenched and unclenched, staring at the corner of the desk. Harry went on. "And I'm sorry for looking into your Pensieve during my Occlumency lessons." Snape, clearly incensed, was looking at Harry with fire in his eyes, as if he were about to scream at him to get out of his sight. He put his hands on the surface of the desk instead, and rose menacingly out of his chair and began to pace around the room. Finally, after a few moments and three laps around the room he stopped his pacing, still enraged and turning on Harry.

"So what is it that you came here for, Potter?" He asked, still standing from where he stopped his pacing. "For you to confess you _sins_ to me in the hopes of _repentance_?" He began to slowly walk to where Harry was still sitting, looking quite menacingly so that if it were a first year in his place, they would have been sinking in their chair. "That, by praying for forgiveness, you can continue to lead your life with a guilt free conscience, as if nothing ever happened. Well, I have news for you: Life isn't that simple, nor does it work that way. Do you think that if I were to have apologized for any of the things that I have done that everything would be... _Normal_?" Professor Snape was glaring at Harry, breathing heavily. "As human beings, we _are all_ prone to wrong doing, and it is ultimately our wrongdoings that get the better of us; and as _James Potter's__ son_ and a _Gryffindor_ I wouldn't expect any less from you, boy, than your heedless prying and your inflated sense of self importance.

"That's _not _what I'm trying to do, Professor! And you _know_ that! And all you are doing-and have been doing- is... Describing my dad!" Said Harry, standing up while tugging at his hair in frustration. "I'm not apologizing because I want you to forgive me. You can continue to hate me for all I care. But I wanted to prove something to you by doing this."

"And what might that be, Potter?" Snape said, sneering.

"Well, let me ask _you_ something, Professor. Did my _father_ ever apologize to _you_?"

Snape's silence and labored breathing gave away the answer to the question he wasn't expecting. Snape walked around Harry and for the first time, showed an emotion other than hatred towards Harry. His demeanor seemed exhausted, as if all the years he had built up his walls had crumbled like a falling brick wall, after this argument. He sat back down behind his desk resting his elbows on the desk and his face in his hands.

"I'm nothing like him and you know it, Professor." Harry said softly. "When I looked in the Pensieve, I wasn't thinking right. I've never known my parents and I only wanted to see them, and I thought - since you were in the same year as them - that they would be in the Pensieve, as well. And they were! But not in a way that I wanted them – him - to be." Snape made no movement except for his hands. He moved them away from his face and was now slowly rubbing his temples with his fingertips in slow circular movements with his eyes closed, seemingly attempting to erect the facade once more.

Harry continued.

"After years of you telling me that I was like my father, someone that I'm supposed to look up to, and finding out that _that_ was what I've been compared to my whole life..." Harry shook his head sadly. "That's not me." Harry said quietly. "And that's why I'm here. To do something along the lines of what my mother would have done..." Harry seemed to trail off in thought. "The one person that stood up for you, sir."

Harry reached into his robes and set the flask upon his desk with a soft clinking noise between some papers he was in the middle of grading and the ink well. "I'm so sorry, Professor Snape. Both for what he did, and what I did." Severus heard Harry sigh and then listened to his footsteps that seemed to grow softer as he reached the door, opening it, and then walking out, shutting the door gently behind him.

Opening his eyes for the first time since he sat down, Severus saw the flask upon his desk, reflecting the flickering light from the candles lit in the holders upon the wall, the silver threads of his memories swimming lazily in it. He let his right hand rest softly upon the glass, his other hand still holding his head.

He brought the flask to his face, staring fixedly at it, and rubbed his thumb on the crystalline surface of the glass and decided what he needed to do.

Standing up once more, Severus walked swiftly to the door and wrenched it open. He bounded up the stairs, seriatim, until he saw the boy at the landing of stairs on the ground floor. Severus slowed down slightly in order to catch his breath.

"Potter! Potter, wait." Harry turned around with a confused look on this face.

"Professor, what-"

"Here." Severus said, grabbing Harry's forearm and placing the memories into the palm of his hand. "I don't want them."

"What are you talking about? They're _your_ memories. Why would you want to give them to me?" Harry looked from the memories in his hand, to the Professor, back to the memories once more.

"I lived too long with these memories. I can't continue to live in the past with them. And besides." He sighed. "She's _your_ mother."

"But... What use would they be to me? I don't even have a Pensieve." Harry asked, astounded.

"Well, Potter. I suggest you get yourself one." And Professor Snape turned around, just like that, leaving a quite befuddled Harry behind.

* * *

_**We're beginning to see quite the change in Severus, are we not?**_

_**I think this chapter is heavily influenced on the fact that I read Hamlet not too long ago. Amazing play, if I may say so myself.**_

_**Words Left Unsaid is an extraordinary song by David Nevue.  
**_

_**Please review! It's the only payment I receive as a fan fiction author! ****:]**_


	7. Mirror of Dreams

Disclaimer: Believe me... I am not J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 7

Mirror of Dreams

Harry left Hogwarts around dusk that day as the sun began sink beneath the Scottish Mountains, turning the periwinkle sky a haunting blood red. Before Harry left, he told Hermione of what had taken place during he and Snape's meeting: How Snape had rejected the memories that Harry had returned to him and insisted that he keep them for himself.

_When Harry returned from the meeting he had found Hermione in none other than the library, sitting at a secluded table (not that any of the other tables were occupied anyways, considering it was a Saturday) with three stacks of tomes surrounding her on the desk. As he walked in and found her she shut the book she was currently reading with a _snap_ when she noticed him. She looked at him expectantly once he reached her._

"_Well… How did it go?" She asked._

_Harry sighed running a hand through his hair as he sat down in the chair next to Hermione and turned in it to face her. His lips were pursed in a McGonagall-esque way; he looked as if he were a child learning to speak for the first time._

"_That… certainly wasn't what I was expecting." He said slowly. Hermione furrowed her brows._

"_What do you mean? What happened?" She lowered her voice and leaned in closer to him, not that there was anyone there to eavesdrop on their conversation._ "_Did you give him the memories?" _

_Harry answered her, "Yes, but he didn't want them."_

"_Didn't want them?" Hermione asked incredulously. "But they're _his _memories, are they not? Why on earth would he not want them?" _

_As she was talking, Harry had reached into his robes and pulled out the glass container once more and was staring at it, thinking, but already knowing his answer._

"_He wants – _needs _- to move on." _

And that was the end of their conversation on that topic. Harry left Hermione to her studying (Not that she could pay attention to what she was reading. She gave up on her book after their discussion, having read the same line at least six times, causing her to slam her book down in frustration, sweep her wand at the books to send them flying back to their respectable places on the bookshelves before leaving the library in a huff) to go and find Ginny.

What Harry told Hermione confused her as much as it did him. She reflected upon this as she roamed the castle halls, checking for students out of bed and the like, as she did most nights, only she knew that tonight was the Head Boy's day to do rounds, but she needed some time to clear her head before returning to the noisy Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry never told her what was in his memories, and she didn't think it was her business to find out. She surmised as much that it probably had something to do with Lily and James Potter, his parents. Why else would Professor Snape give away something as irreplaceable as memories?

But then again, whatever the memories contained may have been painful enough that he couldn't bear living with them.

But on the other hand, considering he gave them up when he thought he was going to die, they might have contained something important dealing with Voldemort and how to defeat him; but if it was the latter, Harry would have likely told Ron and herself. So she would have to think it was the former.

Hermione was now on the fourth floor corridor, the floor that she tried to avoid more so than any other location in the castle. She knew from Harry that during their first year he managed to stumble upon the Mirror of Erised, and apparently after the incident with the Philosopher's Stone, the Mirror was once again in its rightful home in an obscure classroom on the fourth floor.

Never did she mention to Harry or Ron that she had seen the Mirror in fear of being called a hypocrite. She had seen it on two separate occasions: Her first year, as well as the beginning of this year. The two occasions, however, differed in the reflections she saw before her: Her first year was an older version of herself, much like the person she was today, hanging onto the arm of a gawky, freckly red-head which was Ronald Weasley. She also had a Head Girl pin on the front of her robes, just like the tangible one that the 'real' Hermione was wearing. This reflection differed greatly to the _new_ reflection.

She supposed that it was possible for her desires to change over time with the prospect of people maturing and realizing what it was she wanted out of life, and the one thing that she knew _she _didn't want was Ronald Weasley. Sure, they may have snogged a bit during the heat of the Battle, but that was as far as it went. Envisioning a life with Ron was too much for Hermione to comprehend. He was more likely to expect her to bear him an entire Quidditch team before she ever had the chance begin a career: Something she had been looking forward to after all of the hard work and studying she went through during her 7 years at Hogwarts.

And it was Hermione that had sadly ended that short-lived, nonexistent relationship saying that she had been confused by her feelings for him and that the affection that she felt for him was one that she would feel for a brother and friend, not a partner. And he agreed with her, likely not wanting to be tied down to someone at such a young age.

Hermione paused just outside the room holding the Mirror, contemplating entry, knowing what lay on the other side.

She made up her mind. She wrapped her fingers around the wrought iron of the handle and wrenched it open, hinges groaning from years of misuse. Stepping inside the room, she was so mesmerized by the sight that she closed the door behind her without taking her eyes off the Mirror.

The Mirror did not disappoint her in its Grandeur despite her having seen it before. It stood tall, towering over her still, even though she was much taller now than when she was a first year. The glass of the Mirror was worn and dingy, but not enough so that whatever-or whomever- was shown in the glass wasn't visible. Around the Mirror was a gold frame with ancient, ornate lettering on the apex which stated: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _

Hermione gulped, knowing perfectly well what she would see as soon as she reached the Mirror, but she found her mouth to be as dry as sandpaper from anxiety. Taking a last step and taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes that she didn't notice she closed.

As she was looking down while she opened her eyes, the first thing that she was able to take in were the legs of two people, one standing behind the other, one wearing a pair of thick black dragon hide boots and the other, with considerably smaller feet, were wearing the black and white Muggle shoes that Hermione was wearing now.

She let her eyes travel up the two bodies a bit more. There were a pair of strong, lean arms encircling the girl and his familiar hands clasped each other in front of her waist, and her hands rested comfortably, naturally, on his forearms.

Hermione didn't notice the hitching in her breath as she stared at the faces of the two lovers in the mirror, nor did she notice the dampness on her cheeks as she watched the fictional, mirror-Hermione's cheek being nuzzled by a quite content, and faintly smiling Severus Snape.

* * *

It was nearly dark when Severus decided that he would give up on grading essays and retire to his room to read one of his many books by the fireplace, while maybe having a cup of tea, or Firewhiskey.

Not only did the actions of Harry Potter confuse him, but impress him as well. If he had been shocked by his apology at all, then he was surprised that he didn't drop dead at the sight of his own memories laying before him. He probably would never admit it out loud, but he could admit to himself, that he really _was_ Lily- not Potter- Evans' son. He was, needless to say, stunned, at being apologized to when, deep down, he knew that he should have been the one apologizing. He was, after all, the one that helped make Harry Potter's stay at Hogwarts as miserable as possible (though not nearly topping You-Know-Who's attempts). In fact, he was no better than James Potter and how he was treated by him.

In all the years that he felt as though he was being tortured by some higher power (namely Albus Dumbledore) to live in the same castle as the physical incarnate as James Potter, the bane of his childhood, when he should have felt privileged (well, maybe not privileged) to be in the same room as the incarnate of Lily Evans' spirit.

Being lost in his thoughts, Severus barely registered his location after leaving the dungeons. He was not far from where his rooms were, but he was currently distracted by a cracked door in front of him, a door to where he knew led to the Mirror of Erised.

The room wasn't off limits by any means but it was past curfew, and he couldn't resist the thought of giving out a detention, and on the weekend, no less.

Reaching for the door, Severus softly placed his hand into the crack between the door and the frame, his footsteps too light and stealthy from years of spying for the culprit on the other side of the door to hear.

Then, dramatically, Severus pushed the door open, to behold the scene inside which caused him to wonder, why it always had to be her.

Hermione Granger, as he could tell by her unruly curls, stood inside in the middle of the classroom, directly in front of the Mirror, obviously seeing whatever it was that she desired most.

_"Probably her betrothal to the Weasley boy."_ Severus thought, smirking to himself.

He had almost began to wonder why the girl didn't turn around when he opened the creaking door, or if she even heard it at all. And almost as if on cue, his question was answered, when he was able to see with his sharp eyes her shoulders shaking slightly, and with his keen ears hear the soft, yet shallow uptakes in her breathing.

She was crying.

As quickly as Severus had decided how nice it would be to give a detention, all he could think about was how much better it would to get the hell out of there so he wouldn't have to deal with a tear soaked, emotional woman.

But it was too late, as Hermione must have seen his reflection in the Mirror. She turned around surprised and slightly fearful, hastily wiping away at the tears that left sheer tracks going down her cheeks. As soon as he had been spotted, Severus replaced his uneasy expression with his usually harsh front.

"Prof-Professor." Hermione hiccupped.

"Miss Granger. _What_ are you doing out past curfew?" He asked testily.

"Professor, I was doing my rounds and I-" Severus interrupted her.

"You know very well that Saturday's rounds are to be done by the Head Boy, Miss Granger." Hermione didn't care what he was saying or if she got in trouble, she just knew that she needed to get out of his vicinity, _now_.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I won't let it happen again." Hermione made to walk past him to leave the room, but as soon as she reached the door his harsh voice stopped her.

"Detention, Miss Granger," Hermione stopped where she was standing, facing the door, before she could ask why, he continued, "For being out past curfew, _and _for walking away from a teacher before being dismissed." A few more tears dropped from Hermione's eyes, but they were obscured as her head was dropped down, her curly hair hiding her face.

"When? Sir?" She asked sadly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Tomorrow night. At seven." As if he were hoping for Hermione to retort, complaining that it was a Sunday, she didn't, and his face fell slightly in disappointment when she said. "Yes, sir. May I pleased be excused?"

"Go" was all that Severus said, and she glided, still hiding her face, out the door.

After she shut the door behind her, Severus licked his lips, thinking regretfully. Perhaps he should have just taken away House Points, considering the circumstances; but since when was he a generous person?

Severus barely realized that he was still standing in the silent, dusty room. He also noticed from the corner of his eye that he was also standing sideways, directly in front of and a couple of feet away from the Mirror of Erised. He stared at it, but only at his own reflection, as he wasn't close enough to see that which he desired most.

And that was when curiosity and anticipation go the better of him. Severus walked closer to the Mirror, staring at his reflection, still, until it slowly transformed into something more, something that wasn't there from the last time he looked into the Mirror and was, in a way, something less.

Severus wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but he even though he wasn't expecting to see Lily, what he was seeing now made him feel confused and shaken.

There he stood, with his arms wrapped around what should have been Lily, but instead it looked as if the whole length of whoever was wrapped in his arms were smudged, unfocused as if the person were a wet, painted canvas that someone carelessly ran their hands over.

Severus stood quite still in the eerie silence until he clenched his fingers around the gold frame, turning his knuckles white, and he hung his head, angry. He didn't need to look at the Mirror to see how happy in it he looked; the image of himself was burned into his retinas with one quick glance.

What was this supposed to mean? The one reason, thought, idea that kept him alive all these years... Gone. Did this mean that there was no reason for him to continue this mundane existence? After all the dark deeds he fulfilled, were the few reasons why he stayed on this Earth erased, as well? Or perhaps this meant something more, something to give him hope, like there was somebody meant to be in that place, in this arms.

_Hope..._

Severus had seen enough. He let go of the Mirror and stalked out of the classroom, the slamming of the door reverberating behind him.

* * *

Hermione closed the door of the Head Girl's room behind her, leaning heavily on the door, gasping, choking, trying to hold back her tears that were once again threatening to surge from her eyes. Giving up, she let them fall as she stumbled over to her blue love seat, sniffling and sobbing while blindly tried to pull off her shoes. Once she did, she collapsed on the love seat with her legs crossed, grabbing one of the overstuffed pillows to bury her face in. She sat there in the silence, except for her sobs that she couldn't even hear as the voice in her head was too loud, berating herself.

''How could she be so stupid as to not shut the door?'' and ''How could she care for such a heartless bastard?'' and others echoed in her head.

Images of what she saw in the mirror replayed like a video in her mind. It was difficult not to notice the little things in his demeanor and expression, as if she had memorized his very being, like she would never see that version of him again:

The way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

The way his sable eyes sparkled when he looked at her.

How, when it looked like the both of them were obviously laughing, he would tighten his hold around her waist a little more securely and would burrow his face deeper into the nape of her neck, kissing it softly. And then the Mirror-Hermione would squirm slightly, giggling, and Hermione knew that she was ticklish there.

Hermione, still clutching to pillow, buried her face in it more to soak up her tears that began to subside. She laid down, curling into a ball around the pillow on the small sofa. Staring solemnly into the cold, unlit fireplace, she knew that she was pining for a love that would never be hers and was clinging desperately to a memory that she knew never existed.

* * *

_**Just a couple of things:**_

_**The title of this chapter, Mirror of Dreams, is a beautiful song by Jeffrey Michael.**_

_**Thanks to everyone that reviewed Chapter Six. **__**Hope you enjoyed it!**_

_**Please Review!  
**_


	8. Hope

Disclaimer: Nobody was seriously injured in the making of this fan fiction. :]

* * *

A/N: Enjoy. And sorry for the wait!

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 8

Hope

Instead of waking up the next morning to the sight of the canopy of her four poster bed above her, Hermione opened her eyes to the dark blue velvet upholstery of her love-seat. There was a dull, throbbing pain in her lower back as well as a sharp, stabbing pain in her left thigh. She concluded her back pain was a result of falling asleep on the cramped, petite love-seat.

Still lying on the couch, she struggled to reach into the pocket of the robes that she forgot to remove which were now tangled around her legs; upon finally locating the left pocket with difficulty, she found her wand which she had been laying on.

She cursed herself for not switching to the couch before crying herself to exhaustion. She sat up groaning and wiping the sleep from her eyes, and then stood up, stretching her arms above her while yawning; she toed her way to the bathroom.

Her eyes which were slowly managing to open snapped shut when she entered the bathroom as sunlight streamed through the high window and directly into her face. But once they managed to stay open for more than two seconds, she managed to take in the ghastly image in the mirror above the sink.

Dark circles marred the lower lids of the eyes-her eyes- that were squinting at herself. The hair on her head looked like something of a bird's nest, and on her fair cheeks were the dried, salty streaks of last night's tears.

Leaning over the sink with her nose nearly touching the mirror, she poked at one of the purple rings under her eyes and she noticed the reflection her Muggle watch she was wearing and gasped slightly. Looking down at it, she read that it was 10:04 AM and she missed breakfast. With one last look at her pitiful appearance, she justified that there was no use in feeling sorry for herself, as her reflection was uninteresting (albeit deplorable) compared to what she saw last night in the Mirror on the fourth floor.

With a sigh, she looked away from the mirror and removed her robe. Before removing rest of her clothes, she turned the dial to the shower and the water sputtered for a moment before cascading from the shower head. Stripping off the rest of her clothing and removing her watch, she fiddled with the dial to adjust the temperature of the water to what she knew was scalding. She gingerly stepped inside, underneath the water as steam began to accumulate and fog the mirror, and she sincerely hoped that the fog would cloud the memories of the night before, and the water wash away her apprehension, down the drain.

* * *

Severus downed his third cup of coffee in attempt to smother his migraine that was emanating from his temples towards his eyes that, from what he could remember, was caused by the "evidence" he found laying next to his favorite armchair, on which he fell asleep, in front of the fireplace: An empty glass bottle of Firewhiskey.

Severus missed breakfast, and, as was usual on the weekends, so did many of the other students who seemed to be entering the Great Hall at this time and were enjoying their early lunches.

Severus tried to ignore the conversation that he was literally in the middle of, as the Headmaster, sitting on his left, was talking to Professor Flitwick, who was on Severus' right. He didn't know what they were discussing, but the laughter issuing from their mouths-Albus' deep, rich laughter, and Filius' shrill, squeaky cackle- was far too palpable for Severus and he pushed the plate of untouched fried eggs and toast away from him as a wave of nausea hit him.

As the laughter died down, as Professor Flitwick went back to his breakfast and Albus, still chuckling, wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and then concernedly, looked at Severus.

"Severus, my boy, don't tell me you had a date with the bottle last night? Did you?" The Headmaster asked in a "tsk-ing" manner slowly shaking his head as he gazed at Severus, who had his eyes tightly shut and was leaning on the arm of the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.

"How could you tell?" Severus asked, not even bothering to sound sardonic.

"Severus... You were doing so well. Wasn't the last time you drank-?"

"The day I was released from the Hospital Wing and I came to realize that my life no longer serves a purpose?" Severus said quietly so no one except the Headmaster could hear him, sharply turning his head to face the old man, and then seconds later regretting that sudden movement.

"Severus! What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" The Headmaster boomed, astounded. "Your life has more meaning to it now more than ever! Your life is that of a clean slate! You are no longer indentured nor marked as a Death Eater or a Spy! You are free to do as you wish, now! Isn't that what you always wanted? What you've always want from _me_?" Dumbledore was staring at him sadly.

Severus thought to himself. He was planning on looking up information on what he saw in the Mirror last night in both his library and the school's library (Restricted Section, as well, if it was necessary), but maybe Dumbledore would be a better source of information. What did he have to lose?

"What can you tell me about the Mirror of Erised?" Severus asked quietly, not looking at him. The Headmaster seemed a bit surprised by the sudden change of topic. But then his posture changed as he sat up, looking hopeful.

"Well, my boy, what is it that you _desire _to know?" Dumbledore asked positively beaming at his intended pun.

"Is it feasible that, what an individual sees in the Mirror... Can change?" He asked slowly and carefully.

"Well, of course. It is only reasonable for what we _desire_ to change. Our life ambitions and goals change don't they? And people may mature, of course. The amount of wisdom we possess certainly has an effect on what we see, as well. Naturally." He nodded, mostly to himself as he stroked his beard thoughtfully, looking up at the enchanted ceiling. He looked back down at Severus who was drinking again from his (fourth) cup of coffee, avoiding his eye.

"Severus! Your reflection changed!" Dumbledore exclaimed, rather loudly, causing Professor McGonagall, who was on Dumbledore's left, to look at the two of them suspiciously.

"Shhh..." Severus said to Dumbledore, who was clapping his hands, practically bouncing up in his chair. A few first and second year students sitting nearest to the Staff Table caught sight of this and giggled with each other, hiding their mirth behind their napkins.

"Calm down Albus. I assumed that even _you_ could infer that much, considering the topic of conversation." Severus said, annoyed. He then asked him, rather hurriedly, thirsting for answers, "What if what I see is essentially gone altogether? And I'm sure you can guess what... Used to be... there." He finished lamely, looking away again.

"Oh, Severus. I am deeply sorry." Albus said sympathetically, patting Severus' shoulder gently with an aged hand. "Well..." He continued, "That entirely depends... If what you see is yourself... Wholly as your person, than that means-"

"That I'm the happiest person in the world, yes." Severus said, exasperated. "But what if it appears messy, muddled?" Dumbledore regarded him pensively. Severus struggled to remain as patient as he possibly could.

"Well. I don't believe that I have ever heard of that, Severus," Severus, slumped slightly, but Dumbledore continued, in order to ease his hopelessness. "But I can infer that, maybe, it can allow for change to occur, Severus." Confused, Severus looked back up at him.

"You have lived too long with this memory of Lily, my boy, and I know you loved her, but I think this will help you in letting go of her and letting someone else into your life." He said, reassuringly. Severus was clutching his coffee cup, staring into its black abyss. Dumbledore let his eyes scan his students.

Dumbledore recalled seeing Hermione Granger enter the Hall a few moments ago, and remembered the night when he stumbled upon her outside the door where Severus was playing his piano. Dumbledore smiled softly to himself as he scanned the Gryffindor table for her. It wasn't difficult to find her, as her trademark hair made it easier for him, along with the fact that she was sitting next to Ginevra Weasley, whose vermilion hair stood out from the others, as well. It also wasn't that difficult to find her, considering every thirty seconds or so, she would glance up at the two of them sitting together at their Table and then would look away as soon as she saw him beaming at her.

"Miss Granger seems to be looking over at you quite a bit, Severus. Is there any reason why?" Dumbledore said offhandedly, stirring his cup of tea with a gold spoon. At first Severus seemed startled at this piece of information, but then he remembered.

"It might be because I gave her a detention last night." Severus said, lazily.

It was Dumbledore's turn to be shocked and Professor McGonagall must have heard, or was eavesdropping, as she turned and said with an angry expression on her face, "What?"

"Oh." Severus said placing a hand on his chest in mock astonishment. "Are you surprised, Minerva, that your precious, life-sized, Gryffindor status symbol just blemished their track record with a detention?" Severus put his hand back down upon the arm of his chair and was smirking triumphantly.

"Oh, nonsense." Minerva was waving her hand at him. "She received a detention her first year anyways. _And_ it was issued by me. But when _you_ give a detention to a _Gryffindor_- and the Head Girl, no less! - I have no choice but to question it's _justification_."

"Miss Granger thought that it would be okay for her to be out past curfew, _Professor." _Severus calmly explained.

_"_And you think _that_ is worthy of a detention?" Professor McGonagall asked him incredulously. "I could understand taking House Points for the same reason, but a detention?"

_"_Wasn't that the reason why she received a detention her first year, _Professor McGonagall? For being out past curfew?" _Severus smirked at her, triumphantly.

Professor McGonagall flushed. "I-that-that was entirely different! There was a killer on the loose!" Severus sensed his victory as she sputtered out her excuse lamely.

"As much as I would _love _to argue with you, Minerva, I, regrettably, have more important things to do." He then ignored the indignant look on her face and her arms defensively crossing her chest. "Good day, Headmaster." He inclined his head slightly in his direction. Being snubbed like this only made Minerva more irate.

"Good day, my boy." Headmaster said pleasantly, obviously having missed the entirety of their argument, as he was still regarding Miss Granger's behavior from afar.

As he swept out from behind the Staff Table and down the Hall, his eyes remained on Miss Granger, whose eyes, in turn, stayed on the dark clad Professor as he strode down the Hall, his robes billowing behind him. After he pushed the door open and exited, concluding his dramatic departure, her eyes stayed where they were on the door, just moments before he disappeared.

Albus' reverie was broken by his colleague next to him.

"You know something that I don't... Don't you?" McGonagall asked him slyly.

"My dear Minerva." Albus said, eyes twinkling wildly. "You're not the only one who is oblivious to what I know."

"I don't believe I want to know, Albus." Said Minerva, chortling as she scooped up some fried potatoes.

"You - and Severus - would be surprised by how much one can learn by merely _observing_ the habits that one does not know they possess."

"This wouldn't be the first time that I have no idea what you are talking about, Headmaster." Minerva just shook her head, bemused at the Headmaster, thinking that whatever it was he was articulating was simply nonsense.

Albus knew- and was glad, at times- that people thought he was off his rocker.

* * *

**_So.. I found something pretty awesome that I SWEAR I have never read before. I actually found it as I was writing this chapter. It is from an interview with Mrs. Rowling concerning what Hermione see's in the Mirror of Erised:_**

**"So at the moment I think that Hermione would see most likely the three of them alive and unscathed and Voldemort finished. But I think that Hermione would also see herself closely entwined... with... another... person. I think you can probably guess who."**

**_I can guess who, too. Wink wink. That is just too perfect. I hit the nail on the head with that one, huh? (yes, I know she means Ron)_**

**_The name of this chapter, Hope, is a solo piano piece by the amazing Jim Brickman.  
_**

**_Thanks to everyone that reviewed Chapter 7. Please do the same for this one? :)  
_**


	9. The Vigil

Disclaimer: I have nothing on J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 9

The Vigil

Detention was far more uneventful than Hermione could have hoped for.

_Lines…_

_Professor Snape had her write lines as a punishment, and she could only assume that it was intentional; she much rather would have wanted to carry out a punishment that was much more productive, such as making a potion, or even scrubbing nasty cauldrons for that matter, than do something as fruitless as writing the same thing over and over again. The lines in question were, "I will not let my power as Head Girl go to my Head," thus leaving any feelings she may have had for the man in front of her quite forgotten amongst her incensed musings. Every so often she would look up from scribbling furiously, as if she were more intent on snapping the quill he provided her in two than putting words on the parchment, and glare at him through her hair that was spilling over onto the desk and into the ink already on the parchment._

_Hours could have passed while she was writing for all she knew; but three, one foot long parchments later, Professor Snape excused her, stating that she was finished with her detention._

_She stopped what she was doing, putting her quill down, and began to roll up the last parchment when she noticed that he was standing in front of her with his hand outstretched, the two other parchments in his left hand. She gulped slightly, embarrassed at his sudden appearance in front of her, and stared at his hand, transfixed, as she slowly and deliberately rolled up the last parchment. She noticed a couple of pale scars between his thumb and forefinger, going across the fleshy part of his palm where his thumb connected to his wrist that looked as if they traveled past his wrist, concealed by his sleeves. She couldn't help imagining what they would look like when they were creating music. She blushed slightly at this though as she placed it in the palm of his hand, the tips of her fingertips gently grazing the palm of his hand. He turned around, frowning slightly, to return to his desk, and she stood up, preoccupying herself with straightening her robes._

_She then looked at her watch and noticed that it had only been a half hour. She stared at his back in a mix of wonder and confusion at his lack of acerbity, and then turned around and went out the door, shutting it behind her silently before he turned back around._

...And that was two hours earlier...

* * *

Severus came incredibly close to canceling Miss Granger's detention, or else having some other Professor supervise it. His constant contemplating of what Albus told him the day before left him exhausted, and cost him a nights sleep as every time he shut his eyes, the blackness of his closed eyelids filled with that of the Mirror of Erised and the distorted picture it held.

But lucky for Miss Granger, as a result, he had cut her detention short.

_He looked up from the book he was pretending to read to see that she was already on the bottom of her third parchment, despite it only being a half hour into the detention._

_Staring at her, he was almost bemused. He had to hand it to her; even though she was only writing lines, she did it with the same purpose and determination she did with any essay or assignment he had given out._

_"Alright, Miss Granger." He said closing his book and placing it upon his desk. "I think you've learned your lesson."_

_He stood up and made it around to her desk as she pursed her lips, blowing lightly on the parchment and waving it slightly in order for it to dry before she rolled it up. She looked up at him and saw that he already had the other two parchments in his hand and had his left hand outstretched waiting patiently for her to put it into his outstretched hand. Severus stared at her as she was taking her time to roll it up like the other too; her mahogany eyes seemed unfocused and glossy, and when she came to, placing the parchment in his hand, seemed to avoid his charcoal ones._

_Befuddled by her behavior he walked back to his desk, and when he heard the door to the classroom shut, placed two of the parchments on the desk and unraveled the third. He stared at her tidy, loopy cursive handwriting. He sighed slightly half hoping, for whatever reason, that she had the gall to not do the ridiculous assignment altogether._

_He regretted his decision of assigning her lines as he rubbed his temples with his fingertips where he could feel a migraine forming and realized that he no longer had Pain-Relief Potion._

_Severus decided he would take a much needed trip to the third floor corridor in order to occupy his mind with anything other than the damn Mirror of Erised and the words of Albus Dumbledore._

Hermione felt it was safe enough to do her rounds without being reprimanded by a certain Professor, as it was actually her night to do so. Wandering about the mute castle, the only person she found out of bed was a fellow Gryffindor, a first year boy, who had his foot stuck in the trick step of the Grand Staircase. Hermione only helped him out and he ran up the stairs to the seventh floor, thanking her for not taking away House Points.

She continued up the Stairs the same direction that the boy went, only at a slower pace, until she was on the landing of the entrance to the Third Floor Corridor.

* * *

Severus rarely played any music that wasn't by him.

He listened to plenty of Muggle music, taking a particular liking to French impressionist composers of the late nineteenth century such as Debussy and Satie, but when it came to playing the piano, he preferred playing his own compositions.

He never wrote any of his music down; he didn't have time for that. Most of the work he composed was hidden safely in the confines of his mind, only making an outward appearance as sound written upon silence.

Severus also enjoyed improvising. The only downside with this was he usually forgot what he played as soon as the last reverberation dissipated from the air and his foot left the pedal. But no other feeling in the world could replace that of a sudden outburst of emotion that would transcend itself from his very being, traveling throughout his body and transferring itself to the keys in front of him.

His lean frame swayed slightly to the smooth tempo until reaching the fermata where he paused before jumping into the sudden rubato. His spindly hands pounced back and forth between the keys, his eyes were closed as he reveled in the feel of the music.

Sooner than later, he reached the end of his own sonata and he positioned himself on the bench with his head in his hands; he had been playing for a couple hours now and he didn't realize until now how tired he was.

He sat up once more, lifting the fallboard and bringing it back to it's usual position, covering the keys, and he left the room like so many times he had done so before. Only this time it was quite different.

When he exited the room and turned around to shut the door behind him, he wasn't sure whether he was more astounded or agitated at the sight of Hermione Granger, sleeping apparently, right outside the door to _his _room.

Severus was in his right mind to levitate her in her sleep off the edge of the Astronomy Tower and into next week, but something about her made him hesitate.

Despite how stupid and unsafe it was of her to fall asleep in the middle of a dark castle (the war may have been over, but there were still plenty of less than pleasant Slytherin students still attending Hogwarts) her position of vulnerability had stopped him.

Her face was completely relaxed and her head rested against the castle wall. Her chest rose slowly up and down to the rhythm of her breathing, and her rosy lips were curved delicately into a content smile. He had an inkling when he found her and Albus Dumbledore in the corridor that one night, but there was no denying it this time:

Hermione Granger was_ eavesdropping _on _his _music.

Severus wasn't aware of how long he was partaking in that silent vigil, but it was soon interrupted by a slight whooshing of air and a loud cackle that only seemed to startle him and not his present company.

"Ickle Snapey, Potions Makey, catches student out of bed!" He tittered loudly in a singsong voice. How Miss Granger was able to sleep through that cacophony of noise that was Peeves' voice was Severus' question.

"Peeves!" Severus roared and Peeves zoomed above his head above him.

"Will he cook her in a stew? Or feed her to the squid?" He continued, laughing maniacally, holding onto his feet and rolling around like a child in the air.

"Peeves, don't make me..." As he pulled out his wand, he noticed slight movement behind him. Severus hesitated slightly before aiming a silent Tongue-Tying curse at Peeve's causing him to stop rolling around and laughing and abruptly clutched at his mouth, propagating the silence once more. Taking a last look at the shifting form of Miss Granger on the ground, he swept down the corridor, disappearing out of sight into the shadows.

* * *

Hermione rubbed her face tiredly, realizing in horror that she fell asleep outside the door. She could no longer hear the music playing, but instead high pitched laughter that sounded like, "Peeves." She muttered to herself darkly, forgetting the notion that if Professor Snape left the room, he surely would have seen her sitting, or rather sleeping, there.

"Peeves, what're you...?" She said groggily, standing up unsteadily. She stared at Peeves and his wide eyes. He was pointing at his mouth with both hands, and could only emit muffled, nasally noises.

"I don't know what happened to you, Peeves, but you probably deserved it. Don't think I'm going to take that spell off of you." She said standing authoritatively with her hands on her hips. Peeves only pointed even more frantically at his mouth.

"I must be out of my mind." Hermione sighed shaking her head, pulling her wand out and pointing it up at his form in the air.

"Finite."

Peeves sucked in a strangled breath (not that he needed to breathe, being a Poltergeist) and started to sing in a very high pitched voice. And Hermione thought he had something important to tell her...

"ICKLE SNAPEY, POTIONS MAKEY, CATCHES STUDENT OUT OF BED!" Peeves practically screamed.

"Argghhh." Hermione groaned, covering her ears. "Dammit, Peeves!" She said cursing.

"WILL HE COOK YOU IN A STEW? OR FEED YOU TO THE SQUID?" As Hermione pointed her wand at him, it was too late, as he already sped weightlessly down the corridor, laughing insanely and leaving a very confused Hermione behind.

* * *

_**I deeply apologize for the excessively long delay. *sigh***_

_**Anyways...**_

**_The title of this chapter,_ The Vigil, **_**is an amazing song by David Nevue that influenced Snape's playing in this chapter.  
**_

_**Hope you enjoyed Peeves' cameo and Snape's out of character-ness.  
**_

_**Please Review!**_


	10. Ripples

Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling... Yada yada yada.

A/N: Sorry for the excruciatingly long delay! Enjoy!

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

by ktfranceebee

Chapter 10

Ripples

Severus had to resist the urge to slap himself as he sat alone in his quarters on his favorite, coffee colored vintage armchair. Sighing impatiently, he leaned forward to set his glass of fire whiskey not-so-carefully on the wooden coffee table so that the garnet colored liquid sloshed over the rim and onto the smooth, reflective surface where it then settled into little droplets. Standing up, Severus harshly tossed the book he was reading, _Muggle Plant Life in Potions_, carelessly into the perfect little circles.

Not bothering to_ Evanesco_ the mess, he left his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

_The sickening scent of blood overpowered the tickling sensation of the dust in her nose. She was unable to distinguish whether the ragged breathing that broke through the thundering silence was her own or the dying man on the musty floor before her. _

_She felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. The steps that she attempted to make towards him were cumbersome, and imbibed every ounce of her energy as she placed one foot in front of the other._

_It was as if Merlin stopped time itself._

_She was unaware of her bespectacled friend who had already made his way to the pallid man and was now combating the same perpetual hopelessness that Hermione was feeling as he knew not of how to treat his injuries. _

_The two men before her became indiscernible as tears began to flood her eyes. Oblivious to Harry, she hastily ran the back of her hand over her eyes as the scene before her became visible once more, and as a familiar silvery blue fluid mingled with the blood that was pouring from Severus Snape's wound and leaked from the corners of his obsidian eyes..._

Hermione jumped as she felt the sensation of fur rubbing against her bare legs. Attempting to steady her breathing she looked down at her orange, fluff ball of a cat standing next to her chair, nudging her calf affectionately with his squished face.

Hermione had fallen asleep at her desk; she looked at the surface of it where there lay a now wrinkled roll of parchment that only read the words, "_Dear Ron,_" near the top left corner. She had gotten quite use to falling asleep at unusual places, as she thought of waking up, on more than one occasion, on the third floor corridor.

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face that was sticking to her checks with some unknown substance. Praying that it wasn't ink from the sorely attempted letter to her friend, she sharply pushed the chair back from her desk, issuing a vexed hiss from Crookshanks whose tail she nearly stepped on, and scurried to her bathroom. Once the lights magically flickered on and she adjusted to the sudden brightness, she was able to take in her appearance: tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes in all their glory.

Sighing at her miserable appearance, she exasperatedly pulled the periwinkle blue hand towel from it's rung next to sink, and after turning the faucet to the sink, ran the edge of the fluffy towel under the rushing stream of cool water.

The images that flooded her brain had haunted her since the incident, but never had any of her recurring dreams about the war had such an effect on her as it did this time.

Leaning closer to the mirror, Hermione delicately wiped her face and eyes as Crookshanks, having apparently forgiven their near collision, gracefully hopped up onto the counter next to her, his bottlebrush tail flicking back and forth.

Smiling sadly at her companion, she set the now damp towel down on the opposite side of the counter and scratched Crookshanks under his chin, issuing an appreciative _purr_ from his throat as he closed his yellow eyes, stretching his neck out and rounding his back to fully enjoy the attention Hermione was giving him.

"What am I going to do, Crooks?" Hermione whispered, to herself more than the cat, half hoping the answer would miraculously come to her.

She noticed the watch on her wrist as she now proceeded to scratch Crookshanks behind his ears: She hadn't noticed how late it was; in fact, she should have started her rounds twenty minutes earlier.

Hermione smiled a little more brightly than before. That was a good enough answer for her.

* * *

Cursing his stupidity silently, Severus regarded the door with his eyes scrunched slightly, arms crossed, with one hand lifted to his pursed lips.

A week had passed, and there wasn't any evidence that Hermione Granger was making anymore late night rendezvous to the third floor besides her obvious refusal to meet his glare in class.

Well... He would be sure tonight.

Lifting his wand, Severus placed the tip of it to the door, and, while tracing a large circle upon the surface of it's top half, he softly spoke the words _"ut creo perspicuus."_

The vicinity of the invisible circle seemed to ripple slightly, like the surface of a pond that had a pebble dropped into it while the rest of the door's surface maintained its solid composition. The ripples continued to spread until the entire circle that Severus traced became semi-transparent.

Severus stood back to admire his work, wishing he remembered this particular spell earlier.

Returning his wand back to the inside pocket of his robes, Severus turned away from the door and walked back to his piano where it was now facing the door, instead of away from it like it usually was, with the help of a simple _Windgardium Leviosa. _That way,_ o_nce Severus started playing his music he would then be able to see whether _someone_ was outside the door.

Severus pulled the matching rectangular stool from underneath the piano.

It was almost ritualistic, the number of times Severus had performed these routines.

Carefully, her lifted the fallboard to reveal the contrasting keys and he placed his spindly fingers upon them; and just as he was about to place his foot on the damper pedal, Severus was interrupted by a short _rap rap rap _on the door.

Frowning, Severus intimidatingly looked up from his hands, and through his falling curtains of hair, to the door that he could see in the empty space of the lifted cover of his piano. The impatient sigh he emitted sounded more like a growl in the back of his throat at the sight of Albus, who was looking up, innocently staring up at the ceiling, unaware that Severus could very well see him from where he was sitting.

Not taking his eyes off the old man, Severus slowly scraped the stool against the stone floor as he stood, the unpleasant noise causing the corner of Albus' mouth to lift triumphantly, knowing that he might soon be greeted.

Coming up to the door, Severus wrapped his hand around the knob and wrenched the door open, peaking only his head out.

"What do you want?" Severus asked, his rudeness doing nothing to wipe the pleasant smile upon the Headmaster's face.

"Ahhh. Good evening, Severus." Dumbledore said, as if he was expecting someone else.

They stood quiet for a moment, Severus staring almost incredulously at the old man.

"Well? What is it that you want?" barked Severus.

"May I come in?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"What for?" Severus asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously, as if he were a ten year old boy who was trying to keep his parents out of his room; his head the only body part still outside the door.

"Well, Severus. It isn't uncommon for me to visit my fellow employee's. And, considering my attempt at finding you in your quarters deemed unsuccessful, it only seemed logical for me to look for you here. Now perhaps you would like to let me in and offer me a cup of tea, or a glass of elf made wine?" Dumbledore's smile grew a little bit wider as Severus finally moved to open the door.

As he moved away from the threshold, and Albus passed him saying, "Ahh. Thank you, my boy," Severus did his best to cover the blemish in the door with his body.

"It's been a while since I've last been in here. You've seemed to have done some redecorating!" Albus said, nodding approvingly. Severus said nothing, as he still stood in front of the door.

Albus was still too busy admiring the instrument in front of him to look at Severus.

"So, will you be getting me my drink that you mentioned, any time soon?" Albus asked.

"I didn't say anything about a drink, Albus; you did." Severus said exasperatingly. He sometimes wondered whether the man really was going senile; it was a better conjecture than what Severus believed to be Albus just trying his patience.

"Oh, yes. That's right. Allow me then." With a swish of his hand, and without permission from Severus, Albus wandlessly summoned a bottle of wine and two wine glasses that zoomed out from behind a decorative oak cabinet from the back of the room. The bottle which was now floating beside Albus began to pour its contents into the two crystal wine glasses. Albus then took the two floating glasses in his hands and walked back to Severus to hand him his, as he took a sip out of his own.

"Were you waiting for someone, Severus?" Albus asked nonchalantly, looking down as he sipped his wine.

"What gave you that idea?" Severus asked coolly, looking at his wine as he swirled it around in his glass.

"It could be the Diaphonous Charm that you are so rapt in hiding from me." Albus said, inclining his head to look over at Severus over his half moon glasses. His nauseatingly violet wizard hat toppled dangerously, leading Severus to believe that, before Albus' excursion to find him, that he may have possibly made previous stop's at the other Professor's quarters for drinks.

Severus raised the glass to his nose to inhale the wine's intoxicating aroma. "Peeves has taken a liking to causing a ruckus on this corridor." He took a sip, pausing to let the fruity taste titillate his taste buds. "I was merely taking precautionary measures before he is able to do anything that will upset the Bloody Baron; or more importantly," he cocked his head to the side, "myself."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in mock understanding. "I see." Dumbledore said nodding, pacing slowly about the room looking at the floor, the hand not holding his glass of wine behind his back.

Dumbledore tried to get the truth out of Severus, but to no avail. It was time for him to stop beating around the bush.

"It seems that there is another person besides Peeves, Severus, who has taken to haunting this corridor at night."

After more than two decades of being a spy, Severus had no problem maintaining an indifferent facade. "And who might that be?" Severus questioned, before taking another sip and walking away from where he was standing in front of the door.

"Why! Hermione Granger!" Dumbledore said bemused.

Severus' head spun on his shoulders to look back at Dumbledore, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "If I'm correct, Miss Granger's Head Girl duties entail monitoring this Hallway, as well as other parts of the castle, four times a week, and when the other Prefects are unavailable."

Dumbledore seemed to ignore him as he held his glass to the still levitating wine bottle where it proceeded to pour himself another glass.

"Are you aware of her interest in Potions? I believe she received an Outstanding in Potions for her O.W.L's, did she not?"

"You are correct." Severus replied lazily.

"Are you aware of her ambition of becoming a Potion's Mistress?"

"Yes, Albus, Minerva has mentioned it to me before." _On countless occasions, _he thought to himself, recalling the number of times Minerva would speak about her high hopes for her "Pride of Gryffindor."

"Perhaps you should offer her a position as your Apprentice." Dumbledore offered casually.

Severus came close to dropping his wine glass. "And when was the last time I've accepted an Apprentice, Albus? Never! What makes you think I would change my mind for her? Because she's one of the "Golden Trio"?" He made air quotations with his free hand.

Dumbledore drained the last dregs of wine with a single gulp. He made a motion as if setting his glass down next to the wine bottle before nodding his head in the direction of the door.

"Oh, I'm sure you will find a reason to at least give her a chance, Severus." Severus turned around, following Dumbledore's gaze to see what it was he was looking at. None other than Hermione Granger was in the Hall sitting in the nook of the window that was just across from Severus' door.

"She has only walked pass this door four times in the last ten minutes." Albus said behind Severus' back, chuckling. "You know, I think she has taken a liking to your piano playing, Severus. You should consider doing as I say; you might find you have some common ground with Miss Granger."

_I'll consider it, right after I give her a month's detention, _Severus thought.

Putting a hand up to tiredly rub his face, Severus turned around to find that Dumbledore had disappeared.

Sighing out loud to himself, Severus said, "You know I hate it when you do that, Albus."

* * *

_**I love a slightly inebriated Dumbledore. **_

_**Sorry this took so long to write. *Insert lame excuse here* I was iffy about this chapter. I am hoping to finish this story by August, but truthfully, I have no idea how many chapters this story is going to contain. **_

**"Ut creo perspicuus" _is Latin (I don't know Latin, so I'm sorry if it didn't make sense) and literally means _"to make transparent."**

_**The title, **_**Ripples, _is a solo piano piece from a meditative CD I have called Seaside: Solo Piano._**

**_Please Review_**_**!**_


	11. Dancing Light

**Disclaimer:** I own no part of the Harry Potter universe created by the incredible Mrs. Rowling.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

by ktfranceebee

Chapter 11

Dancing Light

Severus sighed to himself, mulling over Dumbledore's advice. It would be nice to have a personal assistant. There would be less work to do, as he could teach her to make any Potions that he usually made for Madam Pompfrey for the Hospital Wing; yet again, she excelled at following steps for making Potions (he had to admit) and probably knew how to make most Healing Potions. On the other hand, he would have to deal with her constant know it all-ness more than it deemed necessary. He was in a predicament.

Rubbing his stubble tiredly, he walked back to his door which was still under the Diaphanous Charm. Granger was sitting at the window, leaning against the sill, her legs bent halfway underneath her; and she hadn't moved, and had probably fallen asleep like he had found her doing so a few days earlier.

Dumbledore mentioned that he thought she was coming to this corridor to listen to his music. _How preposterous, _he thought to himself, leaning against the door frame, watching as the shimmering light danced upon Hermione's figure. Severus thought he would be slightly more annoyed by this notion, considering he hadn't even played so much as a note for Albus (without his knowledge); but even Severus was starting to develop the suspicion that that was the reason why he had found her outside his room at this time of night. She wasn't even making an effort to make it look as though she was doing her rounds.

Sucking in a breath, Severus made up his mind. Without even having a chance to play his piano, Severus left his room and walked into the hushed, moonlit hallway, leaving the Diaphanous Charm still in place; it would wear off in a few hours anyway, returning the door to its original opaque state.

Like the rest of the cavernous castle the hallway wasn't incredibly narrow, but it only took Severus five strides to Hermione's slumbering figure.

Severus, not quite sure of his motive, stood awkwardly at Hermione's side. He looked up and down the corridor, and cleared his throat in an attempt to stir Hermione.

Hermione didn't budge.

Heaving a sigh, Severus crouched down to her level.

"Miss Granger?"

"Mmmm…" Hermione moaned noncommittally, shifting slightly in her sleep.

Placing a hand gently on her forearm, Severus gave her a little shake. "Miss Granger?" Severus said, firmer this time.

"Huh?" Hermione jumped awake at the contact. Severus let his hand drop as Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Prof-Professor Snape- I…" Hermione said lamely. She smoothed her skirt making to stand. Severus proceeded to stand as well.

"Professor, I didn't mean to -" Hermione started to explain, blood creeping to her cheeks.

"Miss Granger, perhaps you should speak with the Headmaster about your Head Girl duties."

"My - Head Girl duties, Sir?" She questioned, simultaneously confused and frightened as to what he would say: Was she not reliable enough to handle them? Would they relieve her of her responsibilities? She wondered the likelihood of her being able to come to this hallway again to listen to his playing without her authority as Head Girl. She blanched slightly at the notion.

_Did he know?_

"Perhaps you can have your schedule arranged in a way that won't so much as affect your sleeping habits."

Hermione stared at him, gaping. What did he mean by _that_?

"Goodnight, Miss Granger." Hermione shook herself awake from her stupor, just barely hearing him. She had to catch herself from saying, _"Is that all?" _With a raised hand and an incline of his head, he motioned to the door at the end of the corridor. Hermione continued to stare disbelieving at his momentary lack of discipline: Surely he wasn't letting her off that easy.

"Goodnight, Sir." Hermione replied cautiously, and she walked away from him slowly, not looking back in fear that he would decide on giving her another detention.

But upon reaching the end of the corridor she managed to glance back down the hallway right before closing the door behind her, just managing to get a glimpse of the very ends of the Professor's robes disappearing behind the door of his musical refuge.

Hermione couldn't help but cross her arms, disgruntled, as she leaned back upon the closed door staring at the statue of the one eyed witch before her, finally letting the words on her tongue longingly escape her lips.

"Damn."

* * *

_**Yeah. I know, I know. This one's kind of short, but it worked in my favor, as I wanted to get a chapter out, but have a lot on my plate at the moment. I hope you enjoyed it. **_

**____****The title, ****Dancing Light, _is a solo piano piece from a meditative CD I have called Seaside: Solo Piano._**

_**Please Review!**_


	12. Shining Smile

**Disclaimer**: All of the characters, places and objects in this story are the sole property of the creator, J.K. Rowling. I am not making any payment as a result of this story.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

by ktfranceebee

Chapter 12

Shining Smile

Hermione's vision was obscured by the innocuous steam that rose up out of her cauldron, which then proceeded to dissipate in the air. Winter was beginning to plague Hogwarts which made Potions in the Dungeons more unbearable than any of the students could have possibly fathomed.

The vapor disappeared before Hermione's eyes as fast as autumn had: The leaves that began to change into their beautiful golden and burgundy hues fell to the ground as soon as it appeared that their metamorphosis was complete; and once the leaves seemed to have scattered themselves upon the land, they were soon concealed with a thin layer of snow that was falling sporadically from the drab, cloudy skies.

Hermione had to switch hands as she stirred her Potion with the glass stirring rod. It would have been more humorous to see the methods at which her fellow students attempted to keep their hands warm (some warming their hands by the flames licking around their cauldrons, and some others keeping one hand in the pockets of their robes when they weren't busy chopping ingredients) if Hermione wasn't in the same condition of near hypothermia as her fellow students.

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape: He seemed quite impervious to the freezing temperatures underneath his copious amount of clothing, and looked more focused on the Potions book in his hand than he was to his shivering students.

As soon as Hermione had looked up, though, Snape had coincidentally looked up as well to address the class, and much to Hermione's dismay, caught her gaze that was upon him with eyes that were as frigid as the weather outside.

"Your Potion should be done by this time." He said lazily, speaking to the class but his stern eyes still holding Hermione's, making her feel, as he had done so many times, as if she had just done something wrong. This led Hermione to believe that he wasn't going to make his leniency towards her the night before a habit any time soon.

"If you will, please, place a sample of your Potion into your vials and deliver them to my desk." He looked back down at his book. "_This_ is an N.E.W.T. level Potion's class." He emphasized. "If you do not believe your Potion is as exact as the one in your book, then you are probably right." He smirked, turning the page to his book, "and if that is the case, then do not bother in turning it in."

"Wow." Hermione heard Ginny whispering to Luna. "Way to be polite about it." They both chortled with their mouths tightly closed so that their amusement wouldn't be noticed. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she walked past them to turn in her completed Anger Alleviator that was the exact same shade of powder blue that the book called for, her name that she magically signed in cursive running down the length of the glass tube.

"Well. He did say _please_." Hermione added to them, under her breath as she past them. The blond and the red head only laughed louder.

"Miss Granger." Snape said sternly upon her reaching his desk, closing the book with a snap and laying it upon the wooden surface of his desk. She couldn't help but think that he overheard her.

Hermione stood quite alone at the foot of his desk. The rest of the class was still filling their vials apprehensively, not wanting to turn a botched Potion in.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, not looking at him as she busied herself with carefully placing the Potion in the vial rack.

"_Professor Dumbledore _asked me to give this to you." Hermione could hear his sneer even before she looked up; when she did, she saw him holding a cream colored envelope out to her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked while she took it from him, genuinely curious.

"Does it look like I opened it?" He said glaring impatiently at her. She ignored him.

"Thank you, Sir." She said as politely as she could, and she returned to her seat.

Sitting back down, she looked at the considerably loopy handwriting reading _Miss Granger_ at the face of the envelope. Turning it around there was an unbroken red wax seal depicting a small phoenix in flames.

She looked back up at Snape, frowning as she broke the seal, as he was correct when he said that he, indeed, did not open it.

Pulling the letter out of the envelope, she read quietly to herself as the rest of the class busied with cleaning up their work stations.

_Miss Granger,_

_Upon leaving you 3__rd__ period Potions class, please come to my office, as I have some matters that I wish to discuss with you. _

_I hope this letter finds you well,_

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

_Postscript: If you will, please bring your grumpy Potions Master with you. He knows the password._

Hermione held back a giggle. She couldn't help in imagining the Headmaster's twinkling eyes as she read the "Postscript."

Not knowing what the Headmaster had up his sleeve, Hermione felt that it would be best if she waited until the rest of the students left the classroom to go to lunch before she approached Professor Snape to inform him about the contents of the letter.

Soon after she had finished cleaning her Potions equipment by hand, returned the leftover jars of ingredients to their respectable cabinets and explaining to a confused Ginny and Luna that she would see them at lunch, Hermione made her way back to Professor Snape's desk. He was now standing, facing away from her as he had wielded his wand and was performing a silent _Tergeo _on the chalkboard's surface.

"Professor?" Hermione questioned evenly, as he stored his wand back into the depths of his robes.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" Severus asked tonelessly as he proceeded to straighten the already neat pile of essays about the side effects of the Anger Alleviator Potion turned in by their class earlier.

"Pertaining to the letter that Professor Dumbledore gave me, Sir; he asked me to go to his office after this class-" Hermione trailed off as he interrupted her.

"And this concerns me, how, Miss Granger?" He sneered.

Hermione looked down at the letter in her hands. "Well, he wants you to go with me as well, Sir."

With his brow furrowed, he moved from around his desk towards Hermione. "Let me see-" He made a movement to take the letter from Hermione's hands as she began to protest. "Professor, I don't think you sh-"

"That." He finished, and he held the letter out in front of him. He went on to read it, his scowl deepening as he reached the end of the already short letter.

He turned back around to face Hermione, who looked about the room innocently with her hands behind her back, as if she didn't read the Postscript (or find it amusing). Scoffing, he merely crumpled the letter with one hand and proceeded to walk to the door, merely saying, "Come on then, Miss Granger," and dropping the letter in the waste basket on the way out of the room.

Hermione had to jog to keep pace with Professor Snape as each of his long strides matched two of her own. They ascended the stairs leading from the Dungeons into the Main Entrance to the Grand Staircase and the Great Hall whose walls were obscured with magically moving portraits whose occupants' eyes were following Hermione and Professor Snape. The students that were going into the Great Hall for lunch stared at Hermione walking to keep up with the most feared Professor that Hogwarts has ever seen. The sympathy in their eyes for whatever punishment Hermione was about to receive mingled with confusion as to why the school's Head Girl was in trouble. Hermione thought back to the previous night when Professor Snape had caught her sleeping when she should have been monitoring the halls. Hermione toyed with the Golden Head Girl badge securely pinned to the front of her robes and hoped that she would still be wearing it after she left Dumbledore's office.

Finally, after what seemed like a long and tumultuous journey through the school's labyrinth of staircases, Hermione followed Professor Snape through the 7th floor corridor until the two of them reached the statue of a hideous gargoyle statue guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's Office.

Hermione, not knowing the password, waited patiently for her Professor to say something. He sighed heavily, and rolling his eyes, spoke the password.

"Chocoballs."

Hermione couldn't stop the laugh that seemed to escape her throat like a spell emitted from a wand. Professor Snape whipped his head around to make sure that the unladylike snort wasn't emitted by someone other than the bushy haired girl standing next to him. She slapped her hand to her mouth as Professor Snape glowered at her, as if challenging her to make any further noises or remarks. The hand cupped to her mouth quickly changed into a fist which she then proceeded in feigning to cough into. Professor Snape then stepped into the moving spiral staircase, followed by Hermione who was still in a state of amusement as a result of Professor Dumbledore's eccentric taste in sweets.

Even before Hermione was even halfway to the top of the staircase, she could already hear the Professor knocking on the Headmaster's door and once she reached the hem of the Professor's black pool of robes that was cascading the down the top two steps, she could hear the soft voice of Professor Dumbledore on the other side of the door inviting them in.

Hermione followed Professor Snape in to the vastly round, and overly decorated office that she had yet to enter in all her years at Hogwarts.

There were fascinating, whirring trinkets covering any available surface, silvery bobbles beautifully reflected the light that was entering through a round window at the top of the tower and spindly contraptions that Hermione couldn't even begin to guess what they were used for were sitting almost patiently as if to be used. And much to Hermione's delight, there were numerous towering bookcases that circled throughout the room. Hermione only wished that she could spend all day in this room to discover, despite all the wizarding books she had read, the uses for these many magical objects.

Professor Snape , on the other hand, paid no interest in these devices. To Hermione's understanding, he either didn't care or had been in his room so many times that it was all very ordinary to him.

"Headmaster." Professor Snape said, inclining his head in greeting to his older colleague. He had already walked over to where Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk and occupied one of the two straight back chairs that were on the opposite end.

Snape looked at Dumbledore, who was watching Hermione's obvious enthrallment to the room she was in, as she was standing just a few feet from the door they just entered, taking in the countless number of Headmaster and Headmistress portraits that covered the walls. With sparkling eyes, the Headmaster addressed her.

"Miss Granger? Won't you join us?" Hermione was broken from her reverie, and with a smile still on her face walked over to the other empty stair positioned a few inches away from Professor Snape. Laughing she said, "I'm sorry, Professor."

"Quite alright, Miss Granger. Would you care for a lemon drop?" He asked, opening a modest sized decorated tin container on his desk. Hermione picked one of the many identical sweets up with a thumb and forefinger and placed it in her mouth, savoring the tart, citrusy taste on the tip of her tongue, and the jolt in her jaw caused by its sourness.

"Severus?" Asked Professor Dumbledore, smiling at his young friend.

"No, thank you, Headmaster." He said in a way that Hermione could conclude that Professor Dumbledore should have known the answer. Without saying anything else, Professor Dumbledore followed Hermione's suit and popped one of the candies into his mouth as well.

"Well, Miss Granger, I am sure you are anxious to know why I asked you here." Professor Dumbledore said, moving the candy to the side of his mouth so he could talk a little easier. Hermione only waited patiently with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Professor Dumbledore continued, "And Severus, I'm sure you are curious as to why I brought you here as well." Hermione looked at the man sitting next to her, and if Dumbledore thought he looked the least bit curious, Hermione would want Dumbledore to get an eye exam. Curious was an incredibly inaccurate word; more like incredibly uninterest. He sat with his ankle resting on the knee of his other leg, and with his elbow on the arm of the chair, with his hand supporting his hand: So very different than his usually stiff posture that Hermione was so used to seeing.

"Miss Granger. I am sad to say that I have been informed about your _habits_, I suppose you can say, while doing your rounds about the castle." He didn't have to say it. Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach. He knew she was falling asleep while she was supposed to be monitoring the halls of the castle. And that's why Professor Snape was here. _Yes_, she thought sadly to herself. She didn't even have to look at Professor Snape. She knew that he told Dumbledore. It was quite evident; she could see him out of the corner of her eye, apparently avoiding hers.

Hermione gripped the arms of her chair and leaned forward slightly, but before she could explain, Professor Dumbledore continued. "But luckily, I- or should I say Severus and I-," Hermione seemed to have missed the confused expression on Professor Snape's face as he stared incredulously at his boss, "came up with an alternative for your Head Girl duties." Hermione waited, she could almost feel Professor Snape shifting uncomfortably next to her.

"How would you like to be Professor Snape's apprentice?" Professor Dumbledore asked, steepling his long fingers in front of his long, white beard.

"I…" She paused to look back and forth between Dumbledore and Professor Snape. "Really…?" Snape had yet to acknowledge Hermione since they have both entered the room, and he was now rubbing his temple with the four fingers on his right hand, eyes closed. She looked back at Professor Dumbledore, grinning brightly.

"I would love to."

"Wonderful!" Professor Dumbledore said excitedly, clapping his hands together. I will make arrangements to have one of the Prefects take over your rounds, Miss Granger, and you two can decide upon when you will be meeting. But for now, it's off to lunch for the both of you. " He motioned to them with his hands, as if he was dealing with two First Years. He stood up and walked around his desk to the two of them: Hermione who was positively beaming, and Professor Snape, who was looking like he would want nothing better than to leave that room.

"I heard rumors that the House Elves will be serving a delicious cherry gelatin for dessert that I can't wait to try." Smiling, he placed a gnarled hand on each of their shoulders momentarily, and turned around to leave the two of them alone in his own office. They stood facing each other, rather awkwardly, as they were both somewhat trapped between the Headmasters desk and the the two heavy wooden chairs they just vacated.

Professor Snape casually cleared his throat and attempted to follow the ancient wizard, but was stopped by Hermione's quiet yet confident voice.

"Professor Snape?" Severus' hand rested on the handle of the door. The Headmaster had made sure that he shut the door on his way out.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" He said, turning around once more. Hermione walked up to him.

"I promise, Professor, I won't let you down." And she simply stuck out her hand, staring at him in the eye, waiting for him to shake it.

And he did. Hermione noticed the muscle in his jaw working, as he simply grasped her outstretched hand with one of his own. Hermione tried to ignore her heart that was hammering in her chest.

"I expect you tonight at seven, Miss Granger." He let go of her hand. "Do not be late."

And Hermione smiled at him. "Of course not, Professor." And Snape, with a scowl plastered on his face, turned sharply on his heel and left the office. But as Hermione stood alone in the enormous room, she could still see his dark eyes still etched in her mind when he was standing in front of her and how they seemed to be lacking the usual bitterness behind them, and how surprisingly warm and strong his hand felt clasping her smaller one.

And the hundreds of previous Heads of Hogwarts bore witness as Hermione's joyous laughter echoed in the tower and as she walked back to Professor Dumbledore's desk to sneak another lemon drop before literally skipping out of the room.

* * *

_**Sorry for the delay!**_

_**Chocoballs make me laugh. You may remember them being mentioned in Prisoner of Azkaban as**_**_ "large chocolate sweets with a filling of strawberry and clotted cream."_**

**"Shining Smile"_ is a beautiful song by the talented Yiruma._**

**_Please Review!  
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	13. Adagio Cantabile

**Disclaimer**: I own no part of the Harry Potter Universe created by the amazing J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 13

Adagio Cantabile

Hermione trotted down the middlemost and seemingly infinite aisle of the Great Hall. She stopped abruptly to pick up a ruby red apple from one of the many bowls littering the Gryffindor table before skipping over to where Ginny and Luna were in conversation.

A year ago it would have disconcerted the entire student body to see a Ravenclaw sitting at the Gryffindor table, even though the two Houses have always been on friendly terms unlike the Houses of Godric and Salazar. A number of things had changed with the conclusion of the war, and it was a common site to see the four Houses intermingling during mealtimes. Hermione had always hoped for and supported the notion of inter-house cordiality, and was relieved for it, considering that Luna always seemed to have a difficult time making friends in her own house.

Once Hermione reached the two girls, they looked up to where she was standing over them, beaming as though she were pleased with herself.

"Hey, Herms." Ginny said slowly, eyebrows knitting together suspiciously. "You alright?" She patted the empty seat next to her for Hermione to sit down.

"Actually," Hermione said laughing as she slid into the seat next to Ginny, taking a big bite into the fruit she was holding and answering with her mouth full, "I'fe coo'unt be be'er!"

"Ugh. Gross, Hermione!" Ginny said shielding her face with her hands as a piece of apple flew from Hermione's mouth and landed in her hair. Luna looked on at the spectacle, laughing at the two of them as Ginny flicked the chunk out of her long locks and then wiped her hand on her napkin. "I think you've picked up on a one too many of my brother's manners."

"I'm sorry!" Hermione said laughing. "That's what I get for being his friend for seven years."

"Do you think you can give us a translation for what you just said?" Ginny said, playfully swatting her arm.

"I said, 'I couldn't be better'!" Hermione said a little more legibly. "You won't_ believe_ the good news I have!"

"Oh, yes. Why was it that you stayed after the bell in Potions today?" Luna asked dreamily as she swirled her Pumpkin juice around in her golden goblet.

"Well. I received a letter from Professor Dumbledore." Hermione started to explain. "He asked me if I would like to apprentice for one of the Professors." Hermione said taking a smaller bite of her apple this time, waiting for her friends' reactions. She purposefully neglected to mention anything about her excursions to the third floor.

"Merlin, Hermione, really? Ginny asked.

"You're not apprenticing with Dumbledore, are you?" Luna asked excitingly, leaning forward over the table, her long flaxen hair threatening to fall into what looked like tomato bisque.

"Oh, gosh, no." Hermione said waving her hand dismissively.

"Professor Flitwick?" Asked Luna.

Hermione reached out for her goblet of Pumpkin juice. They took her silence as a _no._

"Professor McGonagall?" Ginny offered. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh no, Hermione." Ginny groaned. Hermione looked at the two of them over the rim of her goblet as she took a sip. "Don't tell me you're apprenticing with—"

"Yep." Hermione said, smiling proudly, setting her goblet down with a _thud_. "You both are looking at Professor Snape's _new apprentice_."

"Oh." Luna said sadly. "I was going to say _Hagrid_."

"_Ha ha_." Hermione laughed sarcastically. She looked up at the two of them and their anxious faces. Hermione laid her napkin down exasperatedly. "Oh, come on, guys! This is supposed to be a good thing."

"I don't know, Hermione." Ginny said apprehensively. "Snape's nasty git in class. And that's when there are people around! Imagine how unpleasant he could be when it's just the two of you."

"That may be so." Luna said logically. "But imagine all that Hermione could learn from him."

"Thank you, Luna." Hermione said kindly to her friend, but then quickly looked back at Ginny reprovingly.

"Hey!" Ginny said putting her hands up defensively. "I'm not saying that I'm not happy for you, or that you shouldn't do it, I'm just giving you some little-sisterly advice; I am just telling you to be careful, alright?" Ginny said placing a friendly hand on Hermione's back.

"I know." Hermione said sympathetically. "But I'm really excited about this! My first lesson is tonight, so I'm going to go." She said standing up.

Luna looked up and Ginny looked at her confused.

"But…Hermione!" Ginny said. "It's only lunchtime. And you hardly ate anything."

"I know!" She said agonizingly, grabbing an orange off the table this time in order to please Ginny. "But I'm so excited! I can't sit still! I'll see you guys in Charms, okay?" Hermione smiled and waved, before she hopped out of the Great Hall, not knowing that Ginny and Luna's eyes weren't the only ones on her.

* * *

"I can't possibly understand how you can consume that, Headmaster." Snape said disgustingly, giving the Professor Dumbledore a sidelong glance with his arms crossed in front of him.

"Oh, Severus, quit being so sullen." Professor Dumbledore clucked as he took a bite of the Jell-O that was wiggling dangerously on his spoon. "And anyways, it's quite delicious."

Severus shivered. He had an intense dislike of anything cherry flavored, besides cherries themselves.

"I have had cherry gelatin before, Headmaster, and like all things cherry flavored, it tastes like Muggle cough syrup; not to mention that the consistency is nauseating."

"You should give it another try, my boy." He levitated the giant molded gelatin in front of him and gave it a shake, causing him to laugh as it jiggled back and forth. "How could you not be in a good mood when you're eating this?"

Severus grunted and pushed his plate away from him, which had nothing on it to begin with.

"Alright, Severus. I understand that you're upset." Dumbledore started.

"_That_ is an understatement, Albus." He said, using his first name like he usually did when he was irritated. "I couldn't possibly imagine the gall you possess. Or do you have any respect whatsoever at the idea that I am a person that enjoys his privacy?"

"Oh, Severus, don't be such a prima donna." Severus looked admonished at Dumbledore's description.

"A what?"

Dumbledore ignored him.

"The only reason you get mad at me is because you think I'm just a _meddling old man._" He said rather gently. "Well, I know what I'm doing, Severus; and besides, if you were so against Miss Granger being your apprentice, then why didn't you speak up when we were in my office?" Dumbledore finished triumphantly.

Severus momentarily seemed confused by his own actions. _Why _didn't_ I say anything?_

"You were putting me in a difficult position, Headmaster. I couldn't just shoot the girl down, could I?" Severus asked, dejected. He could clearly see from where he was sitting, Granger waving happily to her friends before prancing out of the Great Hall.

"Oh, course you could have, Severus." Dumbledore said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, removing any traces of food before standing up. "You've never seemed to have a problem doing so before." And the older man winked at the younger man, and after briefly laying his hand on his shoulder, glided away out of the Great Hall.

"Prima Donna, my arse."

* * *

_**I've come to realize that my alerts have all mysteriously been turned off, so if I didn't reply to your review... Sorry!**_

_**I forgot that I was going to put a link up with the last update. I recently did some fanart (for my own story **_

_**because I'm lame like that) and if you would like to check it out... It's not my best. But feel free to look at some of my better art.**_

_**sporkthedork . deviantart . com (leave out the spaces!)**_

**Adagio Cantabile**_** is better known as Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8**_

_**Thanks for the lovely reviews!  
**_


	14. Elusive Gestures

**Disclaimer:** I own no part of the Harry Potter universe created by the incredible Mrs. Rowling.

**A/N:** I was informed by one of my lovely reviewers, fuddersox, that chapter six had been replaced with chapter two. That was a silly mistake. I apologize, and it has been fixed and chapter six is now... chapter six! Sorry for any inconvenience.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 14

Elusive Gestures

6:52

Severus stowed away the silver ornate pocket watch once again into his robes. He had been glancing at it every couple of minutes or so for the past hour, each _tick_ counting down the moment his silence would be interrupted the "the girl" pounding on the door, and each _tock_ counting down the second until his solitude would be invaded by an annoying Gryffindor know-it-all.

He paced slowly in front of his desk, his head bowed in thought, a few strands of hair falling in front of his face.

Although he hadn't even began to consider the duties at hand for Granger's apprenticeship, he had thought up what she could do for tonight, at least, and then he would contemplate what more she could do seeing if she would be able to last longer than one night.

Severus stopped his pacing when he noticed the vials of Potions sitting on his desk in vial racks that had yet to be graded. Like the essays that were turned into him, he always graded them methodically and always in the order of his classes, so he would be sure to give them back to his students in a timely matter (with their usually horrendous grades in tow). Sadly this year, he did not have a free period to grade essays, Potions or to even relax and read a book. It was fortunate that every couple of years or so he would not have to teach an N.E.W.T. Potions class as a result of no student scoring high enough on their exams to take the class; that, or refusing to take the class out of fear.

This was not one of those years.

There were still five vial racks still sitting on the edge of his desk that he would have to grade tonight: the 7th, 1st, 6th, 4th, and 5th years. The advantage of grading Potions was that as a result of his knowledge on the subject, the only thing that he needed to note was what he called the _Three C's:_ The Consistency, the Color, and the Cologne; Depending on the Potion, if just one of these three criteria were off slightly, the Potion could be either extremely volatile, poisonous, ineffective or an entirely different potion altogether.

Severus was studying the Anger Alleviator Potions that were left by the 7th years. He picked up a random one: _Ginny W. _it read on the side of the vial. Severus tilted the vial on its side and could tell by the way it was adhering to the insides of the glass that it was far too syrupy to receive an Outstanding but considering it was still the required blue, he would give her an Exceeds Expectations. And then picking up _Luna L., _he would have to give her the same, despite the Potion being more cerulean in color.

However, there weren't that many others that were close to the shade of blue that was vital, so he picked up the one that was sitting between a vial of lilac potion and chalky white potion. Holding it up so that is was level with his face, he noted the that the exact shade of powder blue was eminent, and watched as, after he tilted the vial, the liquid cohere into little droplets and slide down the inside of the glass.

_Perfect._

However, if there was any hint of a proud smirk, it quickly disappeared. His thin lips pursed in irritation upon realizing that the Potion did not belong to one of his Slytherins.

Neatly upon the side of the vial was a sparkling magical scrawl in neat, broken cursive reading _Hermione J. Granger. _Severus didn't even have time to question how she was able to put nearly her whole name on the side of the small vial as, if almost on cue, there was a knock on the door.

Making an annoyed _hmph,_ sound, Severus none-too-carefully placed the vial back into its respectable place on the rack and pulled out his pocket watch once more.

6:57

She was three minutes early. Leaning against the desk, Severus crossed his arms and declared, "Enter."

Granger entered the room. She was still in her school robes and for whatever reason, brought her school bag as well.

"Good evening, Professor Snape." Hermione said brightly, closing the door behind her.

"You're early, Miss Granger." He said, regarding her bag slung over her shoulder.

"I'd rather be early than late, Professor." She stated smartly. "Oh. And I wasn't sure what all I was supposed to bring, so I just—"

"You needn't bring anything to these lessons, unless you wish, Miss Granger. I can supply all that is necessary."

"Thank you, Sir. May I ask what I will be doing for today?" She questioned as she set her bag down to the desk closest to her.

Professor Snape walk back to his desk and levitated a large stack of parchment rolls back over to her desk. As he set them upon the desk she was surprised that they did not roll away as they were already bound by a spell.

"You will be grading these, Miss Granger." He said calmly.

"Grading? That's it?" She asked, slightly stung. "I thought I would be making Potions?"

"You will start with these tonight. An important element to Potion Making is being able to know the steps to the Potion Making process, as well as the ingredients used and the affects and side effects to the particular Potion being made."

"Grading is a good way to understand Potion making from a non-kinesthetic method that is usually associated with making Potions, as you will have to almost imagine the Potion's ingredients that are being added and the ways that the Potion must be stirred." Hermione nodding in understanding, slightly less offended.

"These are the 7th years Potions essays, and if and when you finish these you may grade the 1st year's essays. Mark them with what you believe to be an appropriate grade. When you are finished I will record the grades onto the grade sheet."

* * *

"Yes, Sir." Hermione said as she sat down at the desk and picked up the first roll of parchment and began grading. Professor Snape went back to his own desk and started to grade the students Potions.

As Hermione graded the essays, she was sad to say that only about half of her fellow classmates knew what they were writing about. The hard part of grading was giving people who she believed to be her friends "E's", "A's" (not that anybody besides her would be displeased with those grades) and even "P's". Hermione finished grading the very last parchment lying on the desk when she realized that she did not see her parchment amongst the 7th year's essays. Confused, she looked up at Professor Snape who was still grading the Potions at his desk.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?" He said not looking at her.

"I don't see my essay with the other 7th year essays. I know I turned it in." She explained anxiously.

Professor Snape put his quill down on desk and pulled out a large drawer in the desk and pulled out a scroll.

"I took the liberty of grading your essay, Miss Granger. After all, I wouldn't want you to give yourself a grade you didn't deserve." Hermione clenched her teeth angrily and immediately felt blood pounding in her head. Professor Snape collected a vial of Potion off of his desk as well and he walked over to her where she sat fuming. How dare he think she would give herself an unfair grade?

Standing off to the side of Hermione's desk, he set down her parchment and vial of Potion from earlier today.

"Don't think, Miss Granger," He started, and Hermione was still stubbornly looking away from him. "That I gave you this assignment because I doubt your Potions Making abilities." Her head swiveled to look at him, befuddled.

"You were the only one who brewed the Anger Alleviator Potion perfectly. Congratulations." He said, almost awkwardly as he coughed to clear his throat and he turned around to return to his desk. Hermione had the right mind to think that he took some Anger Alleviator Potion, himself.

Hermione couldn't help herself, so she took her parchment and unfurled it, and on the top left corner of the page was an "O". Hermione tried her best to hide her smile. He didn't think she would have given herself a lower grade, did he?

"Professor?" Hermione asked before he sat back down. He looked back at her.

"I finished grading the 7th year's essays." She said standing up.

"Could you bring them back over here to me?"

Hermione had already pulled out her wand and was levitating the scrolls over to his desk. Snape couldn't help but be somewhat impressed by her use of a silent incantation.

"It's only been about twenty-five minutes, Professor, should I start on the 1st year Potions?"

"Yes, they're right here." He said pointing at a much larger stack of parchments. Smiling, she performed another silent _Wingardium Leviosa_, and took those back to her desk as well.

As she began grading those she looked back up to her Professor who had a slight frown on his face and wrinkle between his eyebrows as he held up a vial of Potion to catch the light of the torches on the walls.

The smile on her face warmed her from the inside out in that freezing Potions classroom, as she let the tips of her fingers graze her essay, that in some sense, made her feel that she was of some worth to the man sitting in front of her.

* * *

**_Again, I apologize for the mix up with Chapter Two and Chapter Six. I'm sorry if I confused anybody._**

**_Sorry if the split in the middle threw anyone off. It was necessary since the POV changed from Severus to Hermione.  
_**

**_Elusive Gestures is a piano piece by David Nevue._**

**_Please Review! It makes me happy!  
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	15. New Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **This chapter contains canon and fanon ideas. I had fun coming up with some things, but a lot of it isn't mine and I am in no way making any money off of this.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 15

New Beginnings

Hermione happily trotted down the stairs leading to the Dungeons. If she thought she had wanted to be a Potions Mistress before she started apprenticing alongside Professor Snape, she was even more certain of it now, if that was even possible. She couldn't imagine having anyone better to teach her: The methods that Professor Snape knew to making Potions and the properties of the ingredients themselves was inconceivable. And the fact that he was sharing these methods with her filled her with an uncontainable joy.

_Hermione added the last sliver of peppermint, and watched as it sizzled and popped in the hot liquid, completely disappearing before turning the Felix Felicis Potion a shimmery pale pink._

"_Professor Snape! It turned pink!" Hermione cried excitedly. He was up and out of his desk chair at "Professor"; he would be crazy to doubt that she did it correctly. Hermione had already began stirring the Potion and was counting out loud per his instruction with each counter clockwise stir and was ready to switch positions with him once he reached her._

"_Four…Five…" Severus reached across her to resume the stirring without breaking pace. Hermione didn't even have time to blush at the contact of Professor Snape's hand covering hers as he took over the stirring._

"_Even though the book says—six—to add four Doxy fangs whole, use the –seven—mortar and pestle to make a fine powder –eight— using just one." Hermione was already setting to work at grinding up the sharp Doxy fang. _

"_That way," Severus continued, "it takes less time for it—nine—to dissolve considering how substantial they are—ten—not to mention expensive. Eleven. Ready?" _

_Hermione nodded in concentration, and at the end of the twelfth stir Hermione shook in the powdered Doxy Fang and it immediately turned the deep fuchsia required for that stage of the Potion._

"_Phew." Hermione said, wiping her brow on her sleeve. If anyone wondered why Professor Snape's hair was so greasy, she could sympathize with him now . After a week of making Potions she herself had to take a shower after returning from the lessons each night, although the fumes from the Potions did make her curls much more manageable._

"_Wow," Hermione marveled at the Potion, looking into the cauldron. "That's amazing."_

"_Had we had used four Doxy fangs like the book said," Snape said hovering above the Potion alongside of her, " it would have taken an extra twenty minutes before it turned that shade of pink. However, now we, or should I say, you, must wait another ten minutes while it boils before you proceed to the next stage, and then that will be all for tonight. You may as well start preparing the scurvy grass, as the book says, after that the Potion must be on low heat for 24 hours."_

_Hermione picked up the knife to begin chopping the wispy flora, she was surprised that she didn't drop the knife when she felt a hand lightly rest on her shoulder, for what she felt was only a millisecond._

"_Good job, Miss Granger." But before she could register the glint in his eyes and the proud smirk on his face, he was already walking away from her._

"_Thank you." She whispered quietly, unsure of whether he had heard her or not, and continued her chopping with shaky hands._

And that was the sort of routine the two of them fell into. The change in her Professor was astonishing, yet welcoming, to say the least: Most days during the two weeks they had worked together their interactions were civil, and even though Hermione had always considered herself a friendly person, there were a handful of occasions where he was borderline friendly. But who was Hermione to say that she was merely mistaking his almost friendliness as politeness. And even if he was only being polite in order to create a more comfortable work atmosphere for the two of them, upon each lesson she found herself craving those rare interactions which made her feel as though she was under a Jelly Legs Jinx.

Coming upon her usual destination, Hermione knocked three times on the door and entered when she heard his voice admitting her to do so.

"Good evening, Miss Granger." Professor Snape said, looking up at her.

"Good evening, Professor." Hermione replied customarily.

"Your Felix is over there waiting for you." Hermione could've giggled at the statement, but used what couth she had not to.

Considering the Felix Felicis Potion took six months to brew, Hermione wondered if there was any particular reason as to why he would have her brew this one. She supposed it couldn't hurt to have a little bit of "Liquid Luck" on hand, and it was probably a convenient Potion to brew now that he had someone to help him with it, as he would perform any additional steps to the Potion while Hermione wasn't there to work on it.

Reaching the desk where he had already moved the cauldron from his private lab (he couldn't have it just sitting out during his class periods) and had oddly enough had already brought out the few ingredients required for the next couple of phases of the Potion.

"However…" Hermione turned around to face Professor Snape who was now making his way slowly to her desk.

"I apologize Miss Granger; I meant to send you a note to change the time of the lesson. The Potion won't be ready for the next stage for another half hour or so." Professor Snape explained. She saw his point, it wasn't enough time to go back and wait in the common room, but too much time to be in a cold dungeon doing absolutely nothing.

"Well. Isn't there anything else I can brew? Blood replenishing potion, dreamless sleep? Anything?" She offered earnestly. Professor Snape shook his head so that his hair swayed on the sides of his face.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger—Dammit." Severus swore, running a hand through his lanky hair, face scrunched in annoyance.

"What's the matter, Professor?" Hermione asked with a worried look on her face.

"I forgot the book—the one with the Felix Felicis Potion. I will have to go fetch it. If you would like to wait here…?"

"I could go with you." Hermione offered, almost shocked by her own boldness.

"It really won't take that long, Miss Granger, I assure you."

"I haven't anything better to do."

Professor Snape's eyebrows knitted together suspiciously at her insistence, but he otherwise dismissed it.

Breathing an acquiescent sigh, he motioned for her to follow him out of the room, "Come on then, we haven't got all night." And Hermione, offering the back of his head a bright smile, followed him out the door.

As Hermione walked behind the Professor she hid her hands in the pockets of her robes; the only thing she was hiding, though, was the middle and index finger of each had that were crossed, in the way that she hoped would bring her luck. Professor Snape didn't say where he had left his book, but Hermione was hoping that by the power of Merlin it was in _the_ Room. As the two of them ascended the Dungeon Stairs Hermione could already feel her prayers being answered. Soon after, she was following him up the Great Staircase. As Professor Snape's quarters were in the Dungeons as well, she could only assume there was only one other place he could have left it.

Entering now to the threshold of the now very much familiar third floor corridor, Hermione could already feel her heart begin to pump frantically in anticipation as they came upon a very familiar door.

* * *

The girl hadn't said anything the entire walk to the third corridor. The only way he knew she was following him was by the light footsteps behind him. He knew perfectly well of her motive, and his curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he wanted to see her reaction would be if he complied to her request to go with him.

Coming up to the door, he turned his head to look at Granger as he went to unlock the door; the ferocity she was exhibiting as she gnawed on her lower lip made it seem as though any second she was going to draw blood. Pulling out his wand, he tapped the lock to the door. He looked at her to judge her reaction, and her eyes remained glued to the door.

As he circled his hand around the door knob and pushed it open, her eyes seemed to dilate slightly.

"Go on." Snape said to her, gesturing lazily to go through the door.

* * *

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." This mantra rang out in Hermione's head as she stepped into the darkened classroom.

"Candela Luminarium," she heard a deep voice rumble from behind her as the room instantly illuminated from his said spell. Hermione felt her mouth become quite dry as she tried to keep her esophagus from caving in from apprehension.

Around the room were numerous torches similar to the ones throughout the castle; in the middle of the room, however, was a chandelier filled with everlasting candles whose wax seemed to melt, but at the same time, never get any shorter. The chandelier that dangled from the room's high vaulted ceiling made Hermione feel as though she was standing in a rather large elevator shaft. It was what was directly below the chandelier that caught her attention in the first place. The most glorious musical instrument lay before her: A piano; his piano, whose polished mahogany surface reflected the candles above like glittering little stars.

Suppressing her need to gasp, Hermione walked towards the piano in a trance like state, oblivious to the man behind her whose eyes continued to follow her.

* * *

Severus kept at least one of his eyes on Hermione as she made her way over to his piano.

The room was taller than it was wide which helped accommodate the bookcases that towered above him. Besides that, there was a comfy black settee on the room's right wall, and an ornate coffee table in front of it, perfect for Severus to rest his feet upon while he read a book. And on the left was Severus' stocked liquor cabinet.

It didn't take Severus long to find the Potion book, as it was sitting upon the coffee table where he had left it. He vaguely remembered searching through it for other Potion's for Miss Granger to make, however, the majority of its contents vastly included Potions far too dangerous for even a seventh year to make; the Felix Felicis included, as it is incredibly addictive in large doses and unstable if ingredients weren't added at the correct time.

Book in hand, Severus loitered behind Hermione as she remained in her zombie-like state, it wasn't until she looked as though she were about to reach out and touch it did he speak up.

"Ready, Miss Granger?" Hermione's hand jerked back toward her as her head whipped around to meet his gaze.

"Wha-?" she asked, still somewhat in a daze.

Severus tried his best to keep his stoic composure at the confused look on her face.

He held up the book, and repeated himself. "Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes sir." She replied lamely.

He made it to the door first and Hermione followed. He held the door for her and she shuffled out into the hallway, staring pensively at the individual bricks in the castle floor, followed by Severus who, on his way out, mimicked his wand motion from earlier, extinguishing all of the lights. He addressed Hermione as he locked the door once more.

"You are being unusually quiet, Miss Granger." He stated simply. "This very well might be the longest you have gone without asking a question."

She remained quiet as they walked back to the third floor corridor entrance.

Breathing a weighted, uncharacteristically Severus Snape sigh, he said to her with a smug look on his face, "I may as well put you out of your misery, Miss Granger. I know that you have been listening to me play right outside my door."

Hermione froze as Severus continued walking slowly in front of her.

"You do?" she asked incredulously. Severus turned around to face her as he waited patiently for her to catch up with him. "I mean," she attempted to save herself, "how do you know that?" She asked casually, joining him.

"Well, after I caught you out here the first time, I thought it was merely a coincidence, but the second time… I'm not stupid, Hermione."

"I don't think you're stupid!" Hermione explained incredulously. "I just—It's so…" She growled and pressed her palms to her forehead in frustration. Severus had no difficulty hiding his bemusement under his usually impassive mask. "It wasn't intentional at all. Well… It was. But for the longest time I didn't know who was playing it. I just knew that I had to listen to it. It was just so…" The words died on her lips as Professor Snape turned his head to look at her expectantly with a piercing gaze.

"Magical." She whispered quietly, looking anywhere but him, her voice sounding far too ethereal in her ears.

He looked away from her once more to contemplate what she meant; for once at a loss for words.

"I didn't mean to invade your privacy. I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." She looked sadly.

Severus stood stock still for a moment, which seemed to have confused Hermione momentarily.

"What time is it, Miss Granger?" Almost forgetting he had his ornate pocket watch, he removed it from his robes to look at the time just as Hermione was pushing up the sleeve to her own robe to look at her wrist watch.

"It's…" Hermione started to say.

"7:24… Shit." Severus finished for her.

"The Potion!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Come on." Professor Snape said, dragging her by the elbow. They raced down the Grand Staircase, skipping steps along the way, the frantic beating of their own hearts not just a result of the exertion. Not only did they have to make it to the Potion's classroom in the next four minutes, but add the ingredients before the half hour was up.

"Professor!" Hermione said wheezing as they made it to the Entrance Hall. "What happens if we don't get there in time?"

"I'd rather not think about it, Miss Granger." Professor Snape said, his robes whipping behind him. Hermione noted how good of shape for his age as she strained to keep up with him. She certainly wouldn't call him old; he was practically in his prime, in wizard years, and years of being a spy seemed to have done him justice as well.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Professor Snape burst through the doors of the Potions classroom with Hermione on his tail; she saw that the Potion was steaming innocently enough at the moment. Like Professor Snape said, she didn't want to think of the consequences if they did not get to it in time.

Professor Snape practically threw the Potions book on the table, already on the correct page.

"Hurry and pluck the leaves from these Bells of Ireland." He handed her a bunch of wispy, tentacle like flowers.

"How many leaves?" She asked, already plucking the rounded leaves off of the plant as quickly and carefully as she could.

"Seven." He said simply. He didn't have to say anymore, for Hermione already knew what he was thinking.

"The lucky number." She finished for him, smirking.

"Correct." He said, tipping a small glass container into his hand where there fell a single four-leafed clover. "We better do this now, Miss Granger." He said, holding the clover by the stem over the cauldron, whose liquid had the same resemblance of quicksilver.

"Ready." Hermione replied, her cupped hand hovering next to Professor Snape's, filled with the bell-like leaves.

"Now." He said calmly. With the addition of the plants they just added, Hermione almost expected it to turn green, but instead it turned a molten gold.

Professor Snape breathed a sigh of relief leaning over the table; his hands flat against its surface. Confused, Hermione grabbed the book.

"Wait a second." She used a finger to find the step that they just completed in the book. "Are you telling me we just ran up and down three—no four!—flights of stairs, and risked ruining a perfectly good Potion that was in its last stage—no less—all because you forgot this stupid book?" She asked incredulously tossing it back down upon the table's surface.

Hermione almost forgot who it was she was talking to; she braced herself for a reprimanding, but instead she received a reaction far from what she was expecting.

Professor Snape started to laugh; a deep genuine laugh that seemed to originate from his diaphragm, and resonate from his vocal chords. He doubled over slightly, placing one hand on his knee and the other on the surface of the desk. The furrow in his brow seemed to vanish, and little laugh lines appeared in the corners of his eyes. Hermione, unsure of how to react, simply stood there, staring in confusion, with a soft smile on her face until she giggled softly herself, covering her mouth with her own hand.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger." Professor Snape said after the two of them finally recovered. "I assumed that you knew the Potion was in its final stage."

"I suppose I forgot." She said sheepishly. "But now we have to wait until the end of April, right, when the droplets begin to jump over its surface." He nodded evenly. "That's a long time to wait for just one Potion." She said disappointingly.

"I agree. But some things are worth the wait." He said quietly.

"What will we make until them?" Hermione questioned.

"I'm sure we can find something to do until then." He reassured her.

Cleaning up after making a Potion was one of the things he preferred to do without magic. It was soothing, and he preferred not to use magic where there were many expensive ingredients around, in fear of them being damaged, or their glass beakers broken. For a few moments the two of them worked in a comfortable silence, but there was something still weighing on Severus' mind.

"You don't need to apologize." He said out of nowhere, as he moved the cauldron with steady wand movements to a table closer to the front of the classroom.

Hermione looked at him confused as she put the ingredients back to their respectable places on the shelves.

"You apologized for _eavesdropping _on my playing, Miss Granger. There's no need." He said simply as he wiped down the table they were using with a wet cloth.

Hermione said nothing, obviously not agreeing that she didn't do anything wrong.

"I've never played for anyone before, except for my mother. And I haven't played for the Headmaster before, either; although I know he comes by the room to listen on some occasions." Hermione listened raptly and he admitted this. "It was slightly unnerving," He avoided her gaze as he explained, "knowing that someone had been listening."

"But it's beautiful." Hermione breathed, as she sat down on one of the stools. "You shouldn't be afraid to share that with the world, Professor. You have no problem sharing your talent for Potion making." She logically added, smiling. "Maybe if it's okay with you, I can listen in person... Some time?" She asked shyly, looking up at him with her deep brown eyes that he realized were almost the exact shade of his piano.

Severus regarded her warily before replying.

"That would be fine by me, Miss Granger."

* * *

_**I'm feeling a little bit iffy about this chapter; maybe because it was a bit longer than usual. But I did have fun with it. Bells of Ireland are a symbol of luck, I found out. So they seemed a good ingredient for the Felix Felicis Potion along with the four leaf clover. The idea of the droplets jumping out of the cauldron is canon, and not my invention at all.**_

_**I realize Snape is becoming rather OOC. I wanted him to naturally transition into that. Sorry if it upsets you.  
**_

_**New Beginnings is a beautiful piano piece by Dan Gibson.**_

_**Tell me what you think?**_


	16. Mourning

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns anything and everything "Harry Potter."

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 16

Mourning

Hermione blew warm air into her frigid hands to aid against the bitter cold, her warm breath visible in the air as it escaped through her fingers; deeming her efforts futile, she pulled her wand out with a numb hand and placed a freezing charm upon both of them. Satisfied with the warmth that spread through her fingers like hot wax, she stowed her wand away once more. It was early in the morning, and as it was winter it was normal for the sun to just barely be rising up above the Scottish mountains whose peaks were shielded from view by storm clouds that would probably bring snow later that day.

She was making her way back to the castle after walking Ginny and Luna, who were going home to the families for Christmas break, to the station in Hogsmeade. She found it difficult to withstand the questions from the two of them as to why she rather not go back home to see her family this Christmas: It was far too soon. After the war, she had no difficulty apparating to Australia to find her parents. Most wizards avoid intercontinental apparition, but not only did Hermione carefully plan the erasure and replacement of her parents memories so that they would move into the house she predetermined for them to move into, but, being the smartest witch of her age, she was quite skilled in apparition.

They didn't understand her reasoning as to why she put them into hiding during the war. They were in danger, just like the rest of the Muggle community at that time, and it was in her best interest to keep them safe. They may have forgiven her for doing something so rash and against their own will, but she felt it would be best to give her family some distance before spending too much unnecessary time with them.

Besides- She had other plans on her agenda.

Weeks had passed since her and Professor Snape's conversation. Even though he essentially assured her that he would let her listen to him play some time, neither of them had brought up their discussion since then. But she was going to find some way to initiate the idea. She hadn't put much thought into how to approach him about it, but she would find a way.

She always does.

* * *

_Severus felt his heartbeat crawl to a painfully slow tempo. The venom in his veins created a viselike grip around the most important muscle in his body. The muscle that normally kept him alive was now turning on him after propelling the venom, mixed with the little blood he had left, through his body. His heart was beginning to cease activity altogether._

"_Take it... Take it..." He whispered hoarsely, with his useless, deflated lungs. He felt an agonizing pain in his throat at these words. He felt his memories being collected with shaky hands; the precious memories that he held onto for so long. Despite his condition—dying, breathing his last breaths on this filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack—he felt cleansed, like a parasite had been removed from his very person. He knew the feeling would disappear soon enough, once he died, yet he wished it would remain. He knew he would be dead soon; for so long he craved this sacred eternal bliss. A soft sobbing invaded the seemingly unbreakable silence._

"_Look… at… me..." He whispered softly, searching in the semidarkness with his own eyes._

_He was well aware of the two people beside him, but the eyes that held his were not the ones he was expecting.__Irises of deep brown seemed to penetrate his vision. They weren't the green that he remembered so well: The green that he remembered as a child; the eyes of his once best friend. And the green he knew so well as an adult, the son whose eyes mirrored his mother's so flawlessly. These brown eyes were nothing like the green. For the green was a remembrance of something he lost a long time ago, something that made him feel so much guilt and regret that it made him wish for the death that was finally being granted to him now: Something that was never his. The brown eyes only made him want to hold on just a little bit longer to the last gossamer thread Ariadne was holding his life by._

_As soon as he felt this, he felt his hands begin to slacken upon the robes he was so desperately clinging on to. Soft delicate hands grasped for his bloody ones. He wasn't ready to leave; to let go. It felt as though his soul was struggling for release inside his shell of a body. Soon his eyes began to flutter shut, catching the last glimpses of this young woman before him whose eyes began to flood with tears. And as his body was soon to be consumed by darkness, he felt a piercing pain in his right leg, unnatural for someone who was meant to be dead._

Severus woke up, heaving and sputtering for breath, clutching at his chest that he could still feel his beating heart in. An eminent pain spreading through his leg: a result of coming in contact with the hard wood of his bed post after kicking himself awake. Sitting up on his bed, he welcomed the chill of the cold stone under his bare feet as he attempted to steady his breathing.

With unsteady legs and a bit of a limp he staggered to his bathroom where the lights magically flickered on at his entrance. He turned the knob so that the water gushed from the neck of the sink's faucet; cupping his hands underneath the ice cold liquid, he filled his hands before leaning over and splashing his face multiple times.

Standing erect once more, Severus groped blindly for the towel and pulled it off of its rung once he felt its fluffiness in his fingers.

Severus submerged his face within the soft fabric, rubbing the sleep thoroughly from his eyes until his face was completely dry. Emerging from the fabric once again, Severus took in his tired appearance in the mirror. He could see the pinkish, round scars peeking out from behind some clumped sections of hair that had gotten wet. Gingerly he placed two fingers upon the raised scars. It would be a while until the two puncture marks matched the silvery ones that he could see clearly on his pale naked torso.

He felt his body finally relax as he placed both his hands on either side of the sink to support his weight. He could still feel his heart beating abnormally fast against his ribcage. He could almost imagine a throbbing pain in his neck.

_It felt so real, _his voice whispered inside his head. His hand immediately traveled towards his neck to grasp his scar.

He closed his eyes, and could right away see a pair of familiar brown eyes shining underneath his eyelids. Severus clutched the porcelain sink tighter underneath his hands as his eyes snapped open, and he lifted his hand to cover his mouth as he growled in agitation.

_What the hell is this? _Severus felt bubbling anger towards himself mingle with his confusion. What gave him the right to be having dreams about his students? No. _Student._

"It's only because you've been seeing her more often." He reassured himself.

_She was there… That night, _the voice inside of him reminded him. _And you enjoy her company, _it added, teasing him.

"She is tolerable." He said out loud stubbornly, pursing his lips at his reflection.

_You're almost sad that it's winter break. You probably won't see her for a couple of weeks; _he felt a pang of dejection at this notion. She probably was going to go home over break. He couldn't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy the intellectual conversations he would have with her during her lessons. Not even he could deny how brilliant she was.

He walked out of the bathroom, but this juvenile discourse was ongoing in his head as he went to fetch fresh clothes from his armoire and get ready for the day.

* * *

"Miss Granger!" Hermione heard her voice being called behind her as she went to open the doors to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall was standing some feet away from her, as she made her way gracefully down the last few steps of the Grand Staircase.

"Good morning, Professor." Hermione said pleasantly, facing her direction.

"I thought, maybe you were going home, Miss Granger, when I couldn't find you in the Gryffindor Common Room. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you. It's urgent." Hermione frowned, but acquiesced, ignoring her rumbling tummy and the thought of a hot, delicious breakfast in the enormous room right behind her. However, she didn't catch the sigh and look of sorrow on Professor McGonagall's face as she went in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

* * *

Dumbledore sat in his usual place behind his desk as Hermione entered the room. Although he enjoyed his job as Headmaster and wouldn't trade his position for anything in the world, he never liked delivering these rare pieces of bad news to the students; not that anyone would.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore." Hermione said; her usual joyfulness seemed to brighten the room as she entered. He noticed the tip of her nose and her cheeks were pink, as if she just came in from being in the cold.

"Professor McGonagall said you wanted to see me," she removed the dark blue knitted cap from on top of her head, and placed it on her lap as she sat down in the chair in front of his desk; she raked her neatly trimmed nails through the hair on the top of her head, eliminating any stubborn stray hairs that were sticking up.

"Would you like some tea, Miss Granger?" He asked her, but before she could even respond he waved his hand and a steaming cup of tea was sitting on a saucer before her.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said blowing the steam off its surface and taking a sip. It was just how she liked it, too: slightly sweet, and rich with milk.

"I received a letter early this morning, Miss Granger, from your mother." He said, not one to beat around the bush. The sooner he told Hermione the news, the better. Hermione looked at him confused. Her eyes were searching his face as she set the drink back down upon his desk.

"After I read the letter I could understand why it was addressed to me." He said slowly, removing the letter from his desk drawer, where it was sitting next to his closed tin of lemon drops. Those were usually reserved for happier occasions.

Handing the letter over to Hermione, he told her with solemn eyes.

"Your father, Miss Granger; I'm afraid he passed away yesterday afternoon." Her eyes didn't seem to waver a bit as she continued to stare at him; no emotions even seemed to flicker across her face as she reached out to accept the letter that he was handing to her. When she received it, she clenched it in her hand, not opening it. "I received the letter before dawn today."

"Miss Granger, I will make sure that you will be able to go back home, despite the Hogwart's Express already leaving. Whenever you would like to depart…" Hermione bit her lip nodding. "I can arrange for you to be escorted to Hogsmeade; I believe you already have your apparition license?" She nodded again.

"That will be fine, thank you." She murmured. "I'll just go get my stuff then." She said standing up, not noticing her cap softly falling on the ground.

"I'm deeply sorry for you loss, Miss Granger." Dumbledore said empathetically.

Turning around to look at him once more, Hermione asked him, "Did it say," She held up the letter, "how...?"

"A heart attack, Miss Granger." Hermione lowered her head slightly in acknowledgment. And turned around, not looking back, to set out on what would be the longest walk back to the Gryffindor Common Room of her life.

* * *

Why the Headmaster wanted to see him this early in the morning was beyond him. Severus had already spoke the password to the giant gargoyle statue (_Mentos… whatever those were) _but stopped from going up the rotating spiral staircase when he noticed that it was already moving, as someone was already on it.

"Miss Granger." He said politely, inclining his head towards her once he was able to recognize her as her face and, more recognizably her hair came into view. He scrunched his eyes when she didn't acknowledge him. She did, however, look at him briefly as she stepped out of the vessel. Her jaw seemed clenched and her face and eyes seemed to have lost its usual glow. Her walk was slow and arduous, and as she walked past him it seemed as if she was holding her breath. He didn't need to be a Legilimens to know that there was something wrong. He had seen that look many times.

With one last look at the girl walking down the corridor, he saw her wrap her arms around her waist and saw what looked like a letter peeking out from a clenched fist.

Severus entered the staircase finally, and opened the door without bothering to knock once he reached the top, as Dumbledore was already expecting him.

Albus was sitting behind his desk; He had strangely taken off his half moon spectacles and was pinching the bridge of his broken nose. A cup of hot tea was on his desk, looking like it hadn't even been touched.

"What was that all about?" He asked pointing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. He knew he didn't have to ask. Albus always offered tea when he was giving someone unpleasant news; Severus having once been one of those unlucky few.

Professor Dumbledore looked at him as he wearily replaced his glasses on his nose. "Miss Granger's father passed away, I'm afraid."

"Which is why I am here now, isn't it?" Severus asked, figuring out his ruse as he walked over to his desk.

"I only need someone to accompany her to Hogsmeade, so she can apparate home." Dumbledore implored him. "Could you please do this, Severus. I think it would mean a lot to her. She _is _your apprentice."

Severus gritted his teeth, considering it. Of course he wouldn't say no. But he didn't want to agree to quickly and make Dumbledore suspicious. "Yes. Fine." He agreed.

"Thank you, Severus. I will floo her in just a minute so you can meet her down in the entrance hall." As Dumbledore stood up, Severus took a seat in the chair that Hermione had just vacated. When he did, he felt as though he stepped on something squishy. As Dumbledore busied himself with retrieving the floo powder from the jar on top of his fireplace, Severus bent down to pick the object up. It was a knitted blue hat. She must have dropped it on the way out. He dusted it off from where he stepped on it and, looking up to see that Dumbledore was still facing away from him, tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes to return it to her later.

* * *

Hermione internally struggled to keep her composure. She knew the best thing to do was to cry; to get angry, to throw something, but she just couldn't begin to comprehend what Dumbledore had told her. It was far too surreal. She struggled to breathe as the lump that had formed inside her throat when Dumbledore had told her the news had yet to dislodge itself. She didn't remember how she got back to her room; she did however, remember passing Professor Snape while leaving Professor Dumbledore's office. Still in a daze, she magically packed and shrunk some clothes to take with her, Crookshanks watching her all the while, meowing distressfully as if sensing his owner's current condition.

After leaving her room with the items she was bringing with her in her pocket she sat down staring at the note that she dropped upon the coffee table in front of her and contemplated whether she was ready to read it or not. Taking a steadying breath, she leaned forward and picked it up and carefully unfolded it as if she expected it to crumble in her hands, and she scanned through it.

…_This morning… History of myocardial infarction... Doctor's couldn't save him… Didn't want Hermione finding out through a letter… Funeral won't be in a couple of days…_

"Miss Granger?" Hermione dropped the note in fright. She didn't notice the green flames that sprung to life in the fireplace. It was the Headmaster's voice that she could hear on the other side. "Miss Granger, when you are ready to go, Professor Snape will meet you in the Entrance Hall. Is that alright?"

"Yes. Thank you, sir. I'll be right down." She said closing her eyes. She could see the green flames die down from behind her eyelids. Crookshanks trotted over and hopped up onto the seat next to hers and looked at her somberly with his intense yellow eyes and she scratched him behind the ears talking to him.

"I'll be back soon, Crooks. You have plenty of food." She was glad she received a self-refilling pet food dish from Luna on her birthday. "Stay out of trouble, alright?" She whispered, putting her face close to Crookshanks so he could nudge her cheek. Petting his head once more, she got up and left her room and went down the staircase to the empty Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

Severus waited patiently in the Entrance Hall, as he leaned against the staircase railing. It didn't take long for Hermione to arrive: Her soft footfalls down the marble steps prompted Severus to turn around and face her as she descended. She looked exactly as she did moments ago when he past her as she left Dumbledore's office. Severus wasn't sure how to acknowledge her. He wasn't someone who knew how to be consoling.

"Miss Granger." He said cautiously. "Do you have everything that you need?"

"Yes." She said quietly, her hand motioning toward her jacket pocket. "I shrunk everything." She explained.

He nodded in understanding. She was already walking past him with her head down, obviously not wanting to make the situation anymore uncomfortable for her as it was for him. He managed though, to walk ahead of her and open the door for her to go through. The corners of her mouth twitched upward in gratitude. She hardly had the strength to walk all the way down to Hogsmeade, than she had to even push open the gigantic solid wood door. She forced herself not to break down in front of him, even at the sudden moment of consideration towards her. Taking a trembling breath, she walked out of the castle into the bitter weather outside.

* * *

"Thank you, for walking me down here." Hermione whispered once they reached the apparition point beyond the Entrance to Hogwarts Grounds. "It means a lot that you would do this for me."

"You didn't think I was going to let you apparate by yourself, did you?" He asked her, frowning. Sure, Dumbledore only asked her to escort her down here, but his conscious wouldn't allow him to let her to go by herself. She opened her mouth about to argue with him.

"You are not in a fit state to apparate, Miss Granger; you will end up splinching yourself. That is just what we need: Me, out of a job, and you, missing a limb."

"But you don't know where to go." She explained.

"I _am_ a Legilimens, Miss Granger. I think I can figure it out." He said extending his hand towards her.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as he held his hand out to her. She stared at it blankly for a few moments before gingerly reaching out with her own hand and slipped it into his larger one. With her hand encircled in his, he lowered them together to his side, causing Hermione to have move in order to stand side by side with him.

"Just think of where we need to go." He said softly.

_Well that shouldn't be too difficult, _she thought sarcastically_. With you holding my hand and us, standing so close you couldn't get a demiguise hair between us. No problem._

Hermione attempted to clear her mind of all thoughts regarding him. She pictured her home; the place that she remembered living her whole life, even though her and her parents had moved in when she was three.

She thought of its cream colored paint and white trim on the exterior of the house. The backyard where she would sit and read under the ash tree her and her parents planted together. She thought of her cozy living room where her grandparents from both sides of her family would come to stay for the holidays. She thought of how her dad, and how he would lift her up when she was younger to put the star on the top of the Christmas tree. She shook her head at the thought of his gentle face and toothy smile.

"Okay." Hermione said finally, her voice cracking. "I'm ready."

* * *

Severus was mesmerized the moment Hermione's skin came in contact with his. Her hand was so warm from being stuffed in her pockets the entire walk to Hogsmeade, where his were dangling loosely by his sides.

Had the situation been different, he could have laughed: It was almost as if she was nervous as she stood next to him. He wasn't sure as to what thoughts were swimming through her head, but he could almost feel her pulse pounding in her wrist.

"Just think of where we need to go." He was surprised at how unfamiliar his voice sounded. He watched her let out a shaky breath, which he could see momentarily before it dissipated in the air. Severus watched her out of the corner of his eye as she closed her eyes, lost in thought. He didn't need to perform Legilimens to feel the emotions she was feeling that seemed to thicken the air.

"Okay." She said. Severus frowned when he saw her eyes glittering. _Dammit_, he thought remembering his dream; how much her unshed tears looked like those that he saw just a few hours ago. It didn't seem natural for her to be trying to contain the emotions she was feeling. "I'm ready." With one last questioning look at the mourning girl beside him, Severus twisted his other arm, apparating the two of them to the destination in Hermione's thoughts.

* * *

_**Most enormous chapter ever!**_

_**I really don't where this chapter came from; it wasn't part of my original plans. It seemed like the right thing to do. Don't hate me!**_

_**I know this isn't how Legilmancy works. Forgive me for simplifying it a bit, for my benefit.  
**_

_**The title **_**Mourning **_**is by the (I've said it before and I'll say it again) incredible pianist David Nevue.**_

_**Please Review!  
**_


	17. Overcome

Disclaimer: Joanne Rowling owns all of the rights to the Harry Potter series.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 17

Overcome

Severus opened his eyes as soon as he felt his feet come in contact with the solid ground. The two of them stood on Hermione's doorstep in a pleasant, upper middle class, suburban neighborhood. There was what looked like numerous dormant rose bushes leading up the driveway to her house, and the grass in the front yard was beginning to turn ashen white from the cold weather.

Severus made to remove his hand that Hermione was still clinging to; she only gripped tighter, however, and he looked down at her curiously when she did so.

"Please," she whispered, her face etched with trepidation. "Please stay."

Severus hesitated for a moment, but after seeing the evident pain in her face, acquiesced, inclining his head slightly.

Hermione let her head drop and eventually removed her hand from his; breathing what could only be a sigh of relief, she pushed the doorbell.

Severus could hear the chimes indicating their arrival, and their twinkling melodies were far too cheerful. There was a rustling sound coming from the other side of the door, and what sounded like someone blowing their nose. Severus was certain that the two of them were being watched through the peephole, but after a few moments he heard the clicks of the locks turning so that the door could be opened. When it did, a woman in her mid fifties stood in the doorway; she looked a mess. She held a used tissue up to her runny nose as she opened the door, and her brown eyes were dark from a lack of sleep and red from hours of crying. She was, without a doubt, Hermione's mother, and it seemed as though she was who Hermione had received the majority of her genes from.

Her hair was frizzy, currently unkempt, and was just a shade lighter than Hermione's. Her cheeks were just as freckly, but her skin had a naturally aged look to it.

"Oh, Hermione," she cried, leaving the doorstep and launching herself into Hermione's arms where Severus could see that Hermione, although she couldn't be more than 68 inches tall, was almost exactly the same height as her mother. When she drew away from Hermione, she gave her a watery smile and brought the tissue up to her eyes.

"Come in. I just made tea." She stepped over the threshold once more and Hermione and Professor Snape followed behind her.

"You must be Professor Snape," she said giving him the same sad smile as Hermione. She thought twice about shaking hands with him, as she still holding the same used tissue. "Thank you for bringing our Hermione back home." He pretended to not hear her use of the word "our." "I'm sorry that we had to meet in such sad circumstances," she said hiccupping.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Mrs. Granger," Severus said genuinely. She didn't seem surprised by his menacing wizard attire, which he was thankful for. Hermione had obviously told her family about him.

Severus and Mrs. Granger seemed to turn to look at Hermione at the same time. Each waiting, expecting her to break down at any minute; instead, she stood stoically, looking at an motionless Muggle photograph hanging on the wall.

It was similar to the various other photographs in the room, only the others seemed to be of Hermione and her family vacationing and sightseeing, where this one was a formal portrait that could only be a few years old. In it was Hermione, her mother and a man who could only be her father. The hair that was left on his head was dark grey, save for a few brown speckles. He was smiling brightly in the picture, and his two front teeth were slightly larger than the rest, but they only added to the friendliness of his façade.

"Perhaps we should go into the kitchen?" Mrs. Granger offered both of them, gently taking Hermione's elbow and guided her past the living area and through a door that led into the kitchen.

"Please, have a seat," she said to Severus as she unnecessarily helped Hermione into her chair. Severus then had time to inspect the kitchen. There weren't any family photos for Hermione to look at in there, thankfully. The kitchen was neat and tidy, and like the rest of the house, it was centered on neutral colors.

"How do you take your tea, Professor Snape?" Mrs. Granger asked, already placing a cup in front of Hermione.

"Milk, no sugar. Thank you." He looked at Hermione, observing her behavior as she stared blankly into the contents of her cup. Mrs. Granger placed Severus' cup in front of him as well, which he accepted by taking a long sip out of it.

Mrs. Granger took a seat on the left of Hermione, who was sitting at the head of the table, and on Severus' left, as well.

A long uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen which seemed to be enunciated by the quiet, empty street that could be seen through the window. Surprisingly enough, it was Hermione who broke the silence first.

"When's the funeral?" She asked tonelessly. Mrs. Granger took a long, steadying sigh, as if she was expecting this question sooner than later.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk about, dear. The funeral isn't going to be until Sunday. I know you probably have your stuff with you, and you are more than welcome to stay here…"

"I can't," Hermione laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "I can't stay here. I thought I could," she said swallowing thickly, "but not now."

"I understand, sweetie. I feel the same way." She stretched out her arm, putting her hand over Hermione's which was lying next to her untouched tea-cup.

"That is why I'm going to be leaving for a couple of weeks," she continued. Hermione looked up at her. "After the funeral I will be going back to France, to stay with your grand-mère and grand-papa Lavoie." She said, using the tissue once again to catch a tear that was sliding down her face. "I'm not ready to stay here by myself, Hermione. It was hard enough to be here without you once you got your letter to Hogwarts." She let out a collective sigh and attempted to put on a smile, patting Hermione's hand.

"You're more than welcome to come with me. You know how much your grandparents miss you." Hermione was already shaking her head.

"You go," Hermione said. "I'll be fine. I have work I need to do anyway." Hermione's mother pursed her lips and sniffed. She stood up and collected Hermione's full tea-cup, and Severus' empty one. As she did so, Severus frowned. The Professors never gave out assignments over winter break.

"Why isn't the funeral going to be until Sunday?" Hermione asked monotonously, changing the subject.

"The doctor's need to do a post-mortem," her mother said quietly, as she washed the dishes in the sink, facing away from them.

Hermione made an irritated grunt.

"It's procedure, Hermione," her mother sternly explained to her.

"I know its procedure," Hermione retorted stubbornly. "But _we_ know his medical history. There shouldn't be any need." Hermione stood up.

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Granger asked; however, Hermione was already on the other side of kitchen door when the two of them heard her say, "Bathroom."

Mrs. Granger sighed, exhausted, and tossed the towel that she used to dry the teacups on the counter. Severus wished he still had his cup in order to occupy his hands as the two of them waited in the awkward silence.

"Hermione's father," Mrs. Granger started, "was diagnosed with coronary heart disease – I don't know if you've heard of that –"she added, "When Hermione was just a child." Severus curiously listened as Mrs. Granger explained all of this.

"We both knew that it was inevitable that he would…" She couldn't bring herself to say it. "Both his father and his grandfather passed away from it, as well."

"When Hermione found this out, she was only six and, being only a child, she thought that she would have it too. But seven years ago when we found out she was a witch… Well." She paused. "Is it possible for witches and wizards to have non-magical diseases, Professor Snape?"

Professor Snape considered this before answering. "It is incredibly uncommon, but not entirely unheard of."

Mrs. Granger gave a relieved smile, and as Hermione came back through the door, said, "That's a relief, then."

"I guess we're going to leave," Hermione said, as soon as she returned. "I'll be back on Sunday, though." Hermione said, giving her mother a hug.

"I can bring her back, again." Severus offered. Both Hermione and Mrs. Granger looked at him in surprise.

"Why, thank you, Professor. That is very kind of you." Professor Snape inclined his head towards her.

Together the three of them walked out of the kitchen and out the front door, Hermione's mother standing at the doorway, waiting until they departed before she went back inside.

"Ready?" Hermione was surprised to see Professor Snape's hand stretched out to her once again.

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said, and he apparated them both to Hogwarts once more.

Upon reaching their destination, Severus began to feel a cold tickling as minuscule objects began to land on his face. The clouds that were hovering over the mountains that morning had rolled in, bringing the white flakes of snow that were gently drifting down from above.

It took Severus a moment to comprehend the sudden lack of warmth from the hand that was no longer in his, as Hermione was already trekking up the snowy path leading to Hogwarts. Realizing that this would likely be the only chance to talk with her, he trudged behind her, trying to keep up.

"Miss Granger!" He called to her retreating form. She only increased the speed of her gait, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"Miss Granger!" By this time, Severus caught up to her, and he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"What?" Hermione asked sharply, turning around to glare at him, shrugging his hand off in the process, much to his surprise.

"What are you doing, Miss Granger?"

"I'm walking back to the school. What does it look like I'm doing?" She said, walking away from him once more. Severus wasn't sure whether he should be angered or impressed with her petulant remark.

"You know that is not what I meant, Miss Granger," he said, walking along side of her. He looked down at her in aggravation.

"What are you trying to prove, pretending as though you are not affected by this situation?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, avoiding his harsh gaze.

"He was you father, Hermione, and now he's dead," he said bluntly.

Hermione stopped walking; the only movement she made came from her labored breathing. A few moments later, she turned her head slowly towards him, her eyes shining with rage.

"You asshole," she breathed, shaking with anger. "You have no idea…" She closed her eyes. "You can't even begin to realize…" She couldn't seem to get out what it was that she wanted to say to him.

"Then explain it to me," he said, gently grabbing her forearm as she attempted to walk away from him again. She stopped, facing away from him, and when Severus realized that she wasn't going anywhere, he released her arm.

"Before going on the run last year," she started speaking in a hushed voice that seemed to resonate unnaturally in the cold stillness. It was as though nature had _shushed_ itself in order to hear her. "I thought of a way to keep my parents safe until the war was over." She took a deep shuddering breath. "I modified their memories," she choked out. "I modified their memories so they would forget about me and move to Australia, where they would be safe." Her head was bowed and Severus could see her shoulders trembling from where she was facing away from him.

"Have you any idea how painful it was?" She paused, turning around to face him. She continued, "To see myself completely obliterated from my parent's lives?"

"I tried to keep them alive, but then… This happens! It was all for nothing." She shook her head, her hair falling, hiding her face.

"You should have seen the disappointment on both of my parents faces when they found out. The last time I saw him… I've never seen him so angry in my life; and at me, no less!" Hermione seemed to crumble to the ground and began to sob. All of the tears she was holding in the entire day were being released into her hands that were hiding her face.

Professor Snape walked over to her slowly, and when he was directly in front of her, knelt down.

"Hermione," he said softly, as he waited for her to calm down. She continued sniffling after she removed her hands from her face, revealing her eyes, which still had tears flowing freely from them and down her flushed cheeks.

"The only reason your parents would be upset with you is because you deprived from them of the only thing that matters in their life, and that's you. It's their job to protect you, and you destroyed any evidence of your existence just so you could keep them safe." Severus could feel the snow melting underneath him, seeping through the fabric at his knees; but he didn't care.

"What would have happened if something happened to you?" He asked. "You're parents would have lost their only child, and they never would have known about it."

"And father had just about as much say in how his life was going to end as you have a say at being a witch," he explained logically as she used her jacket sleeve to wipe her eyes.

"Your mother told me about his condition, and it seems to me that whether he was to die at the hands of someone else, or from a disease, know that you, as powerful a witch you may be, Hermione, even you can't prevent the inevitable," he said gently. "'No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.'"

Hermione laughed, nodding her head. "Euripides." Hermione looked up at Professor Snape. There was a gleam in his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"You're very silence shows you agree." Hermione quoted boldly, raising her chin. He chuckled and moving to stand up, he offered her a hand.

Realizing how cold it was becoming as the snow continued to fall, Professor Snape reached to the inside on his robes, recalling what he had found earlier in the Headmaster's office.

He pulled out the blue toque and explained to her, "I found this earlier. You must have left it in Professor Dumbledore's office." Hermione's face lit up with recognition upon seeing her favorite hat.

"Here," he said, unfolding it. "You might want to put it on. It's getting a bit chilly." Instead of handing it to her, however, he moved in closer and gently placed it on top of her head, making sure to pull it down far enough to cover as much of her ears as possible.

Severus was standing so close to Hermione he could feel her warm breath as she watched him adjusting her hat. She was looking up at him, as the top of her head barely reached his chin. He could see a snowflake that was clinging to her eyelashes surrounding her red-brimmed eyes, and he resisted the urge to just move his hand just a few inches closer to it and brush it away. Mesmerized, he watched as she blinked and it fell on her burning cheeks, melting almost instantly.

"Thank you," she said smiling, "For everything."

Severus' eyes flashed as he looked down at her. Eventually he was satisfied with how her hat was situated on her head and he lowered his hands. Offering an arm to her, he said, "Perhaps we should get back up to the castle, before we both catch a cold."

Hermione nodded, accepting his arm, and they began to walk up to the castle in silence, the fluffy layer of snow even quieting their footsteps. However, something was still weighing on Hermione's mind.

"Oh! And by the way," she said, laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. Professor Snape looked at her expectantly. "You're not an asshole."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," He said, glowering lightheartedly. "Otherwise Gryffindor would be missing quite a few rubies in its hourglass by now."

* * *

_**Fluff! I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it.**_

**_The title of this chapter, Overcome, _**_**is a beautifully powerful piano piece by the amazing David Nevue.**_

_**Please Review!  
**_


	18. Missing You

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter series. I will also add that I do not own the quote, "People so seldom say I love you, and then it's either too late or love goes." The author of that quote is anonymous.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 18

Missing You

A sound very familiar to Hermione filled her ears. It was an obscure sound, one that she didn't think she could ever describe to anyone in a way that they could fully appreciate it in the same way that she did, but it was one that would stay with her the rest of her life.

It was the swift crunch of metal sliding through dirt, whether it was a shovel or a trowel. She could imagine her father on a mild spring day. The warm sun was shining down upon them as a younger version of herself helped her father plant rose bushes in their front yard. Her father, at that time, even bought Hermione her own miniature shovel so she would be able to help her Daddy in their garden.

It was a sound she was mesmerized by, as well as one that she could listen to all day. The way the shovel sunk into the moist dirt as her father stepped on it with his grimy tennis shoe, and the sound as the blade was gyrated back and forth, ripping the roots in the soft ground followed by the subsequent shower of dirt as he threw the shovelful into the pile next to them.

Gardening was a hobby that Hugh Granger took up when he learned of his heart condition. It was something that his wife, Helen, thought would be a pastime that would help him relax and keep him healthy, all the while enjoying some time with his only daughter.

Hermione opened her eyes as she was coaxed back to consciousness by the comforting hand whose thumb was rubbing circles against hers. The warmth that she felt disappeared as the sunny day in her memory was replaced with the cold from the present. It wasn't springtime, and she wasn't gardening with her father. The sound was a disheartening fraud as she looked on at the gravediggers who were throwing dirt upon her father's casket in the ground.

It was a small funeral, considering how small of a family Hermione had. Both of her parents, like her, did not have any siblings, and her Grandma and Grandpa Granger both passed away when she was a child. So, Hermione sat in the front row at the funeral between her mother and her Grandma Lavoie, who was holding her hand, and her Grandpa Lavoie was sitting next to his daughter Helen, rubbing her back as she sobbed quietly into her tissue. The remainder of the people sitting in the rows behind them consisted of coworkers, as well as people who were patients at her parent's dental office.

Josef and Thérèse Lavoie arrived the previous day by plane, in order to attend the funeral. Hermione's mother moved to England with her parents at a young age; however, upon their retirement, Hermione's grandparents moved back to Paris, as they missed the city where grew up, as well as fell in love, in. And just as her mother had said, she would be going back with them the following day in order to spend a couple of weeks away from home.

"Darling, are you alright?" Her grandmother asked kindly, her French accent as thick as ever. Her crystal blue eyes swimming with tears for her daughter's husband. Hermione could only nod numbly, but she squeezed lightly on her grandmother's wrinkled hand to reassure her.

By now the hole in the ground was filled, looking like a blemish in the earth's grassy green surface. Hermione felt a tug on her arm and she realized that her family was standing. Hermione picked up the yellow roses with pink tips that were sitting on her lap; "Littlest Angels" they were called. They were her and her father's favorites, and one of the many varieties of rose that the two of them grew in their front yard, only the ones in at her house were in no condition to be producing any roses at this time of year, unlike the flowers that they found in the local florist shop.

Hermione walked over to her father's resting place and gently situated the roses upon the ground, a few unshed tears falling from her eyes and being absorbed into the dirt.

"I'll miss you, Dad," she whispered quietly, and she stood up, her actions being followed by her family and her father's friends.

* * *

_"Will you be alright?" Severus asked Hermione._

_For the second time in three days, Severus and Hermione apparated outside Hermione's home, however, this time they did it separately. Hermione was dressed in a simple, pleated black dress with a rounded neckline. She wore modest heels over her black tights and a black sweater as well, due to the cold, all attire for her father's funeral._

_"Yes," Hermione said surely, after taking a moment to think about it. "I think I will be." Severus nodded._

_"Will you need someone to come and escort you back?" He didn't specifically say who would come to get her, but Hermione was sure it was he who was offering._

_"No. That's okay." She attempted to smile. "I think I can manage." He nodded once more, but was caught off guard as Hermione audaciously embraced him. Severus was suddenly aware of the mild violet scent of Hermione's freshly washed hair that was pervading his senses. He felt her arms wrap themselves around his middle and her cheek was pressed against his chest, and he could feel the vibrations spreading throughout his body as she spoke._

_"Thank you," she said softly._

_Severus eventually noticed the awkward position of his hands hovering slightly around Hermione's frame, as if he was afraid to touch her. Eventually, Severus lowered his arms to wrap them around her shoulders, spreading his fingers against her back. After a few moments, however, Severus slid his hands down to her elbows, gently coaxing her off of him. He looked down, frowning at her resolutely, before turning around and apparating without a word and with a pained expression on his face. _

Severus lost count of the number of times he repeated this incident in his mind. Two hours had passed since he had apparated back from Hermione's house, and he had yet to return to the castle. The idea of walking around the lake for the third time sounded much more appealing.

What was going on in this girl's head that made her think that there was nothing wrong with her getting close to him like that? And what was weighing on his mind even more so than that was why he was allowing her to do so. He continued to tell himself that it was only because she was going through a rough patch, and as soon as school started once more, she would be too preoccupied with being upset about anything, even if it was the death of her own father; in two or so weeks time, she wouldn't have to seek him out for anything other than their weekly Potions lessons. Severus pursed his lips, slowing his pace and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He stared out at the lake, contemplating how this hypothetical notion made him feel. Before he had time to register the disappointment lingering in the depths on his conscious, a voice interrupted his carefully sought solitude.

_"_Professor Snape!" The voice rang out from down the short hill leading to him. Turning around, Severus saw Harry Potter coming down the hill in the opposite direction of the castle. He looked concerned and seemed to have jogged to meet him. His cheeks were red, more likely to be a result from the cold than the arduous journey down the mountainside: his Auror training must have been going well for him.

"Professor!" Harry shouted again, obviously not taking into consideration that Professor Snape was only a mere five feet away from him.

"Potter." Snape acknowledged him by inclining his head slightly in an attempt to be cordial. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Can I assume that you are on winter vacation?" He smirked. "I didn't realize that potential Dark Lords took holiday as well."

Harry seemed almost taken aback by the lack of snide in Professor Snape's comment. He recovered quickly, however.

"Nah, Professor, I'm on call," he said, his look of apprehension turning to an amused smile. Harry removed what looked like a sickle from his coat pocket and flipped it towards Snape, who caught it easily with his superb reflexes.

It_ was_ some sort of coin, as he looked at it, holding it by its edges to better see its face. Upon closer examination, Snape was able to read what was on its silvery surface; a giant "M" with an illuminated ward directly in the center of it. Circling around it in smaller letters it read "Ministry of Magic," on the top, and "Auror Office," on the bottom. Turning the coin around Severus found "Harry J. Potter" inscribed on the back.

"Protean Charm?" Professor Snape guessed before flipping it back to him. Harry caught the coin once more and returned it to his pocket, grimacing in thought.

"Actually, it's a _modified_ Protean Charm," he said, correcting him. Snape looked mildly impressed. "Gawain Robards, the Head Auror, has the master coin so that way he can call us individually, or as a group."

Snape nodded, "Well, I doubt you or any other Auror could have come up with that."

Harry chuckled, "You're right. I didn't come up with it. Hermione did." Snape frowned in confusion.

"Robards, even despite being an excellent Auror, isn't the most patient. He wanted something easier than having to cast a Patronous if he wanted to communicate with us, so who better for me to ask than Hermione." Snape was intrigued. He knew Hermione was intelligent, but he didn't know she was interested in inventing spells, like he was at her age.

Harry continued, "After about two weeks, she told me about this." He patted his pocket. "I was hoping that she was able to find some spell in the library, but I certainly wasn't expecting her to invent a spell." Harry suddenly seemed to remember why he was there.

"Speaking of Hermione, Dumbledore just told me what happened. Do you know when she will be back?"

"I don't believe she intended on staying after the funeral, but she also didn't say when she would be returning."

"Professor Dumbledore said that you "escorted," Harry motioned, using air quotes, "Hermione to her house. Why is that?" He squinted at Snape with a sly grin on his face.

Snape's cordiality that he was exhibiting towards Harry only moments ago quickly dissipated into aggravation at his inquisitiveness.

"Miss Granger is my apprentice, Mr. Potter, and I am not about to lose a perfectly adept apprentice just because she splinched one of her arms off." Snape glared suspiciously. "What does that matter to you?"

Harry held his hands up defensively, "Hermione's my friend, Professor. I'm just trying to look out for her. But it seems that you are already doing a pretty good job at that."

* * *

Hermione stared out the window, watching the trees and the buildings blur together as they whizzed by. She sat next to her mother in the backseat of their car. Her grandmother sat in the front passenger seat as her grandfather drove them four of them home.

Her grandparents were speaking to each other in French, only some phrases did Hermione understand. Hermione turned her head to find her mother smiling at her.

"It seems as though you hyperbolized the meanness of your new friend, Hermione." Hermione frowned at her mother in confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mum." Hermione said, resuming her staring out the window.

"Year after year when you came home from school you told your father and I the worst stories about your "cold and callous" Potions Professor." She paused. "Only my eleven year old daughter would know what the word "callous" meant." She reminisced, teasingly.

Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap. "He's just changed." She reasoned. "He's finally been recognized as the hero h, and not a Death Eater. I think he needed that."

"Mmm…" Helen hummed noncommittally. "So does he treat everyone as nicely as he does you, now?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I… Well…" Hermione was at a loss for words. He was still harsh to her fellow students during class time, and ignored her for the most part. Even at the Professor's table in the Great Hall did Hermione see Professor Snape sitting there, as sullen as ever.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Hermione said exasperatedly.

Her mother smiled slyly at her. "I reckon he's taken a liking to you."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "That's preposterous! What on earth gave you that idea?" Hermione suddenly became quite aware of the silence in the small automobile. Her grandparents seemed to have wrapped up their conversation, or stopped talking entirely in order to listen to theirs.

"Oh, 'Ermione." Her grandfather spoke up from behind the steering wheel, looking at her by means of the rear view mirror. "You know your muzzer and your grandmuzzer are a bunch of gossipmongers," he said, waving one of his hands in the air.

"Zey were taking turns looking through ze peep'ole when you showed up. And believe me, I tried to stop zem." He laughed.

"Josef!" Thérèse said, slapping his arm with her the back of her hand.

"What?" Josef said innocently as they pulled into the driveway of her house.

"You have got to be kidding me," Hermione said, hiding her face in her hands in embarrassment. Her grandparents got out of the car, leaving Hermione and her mother alone.

"And I think you like him, too, Hermione." Helen said, attempting to pull Hermione's hands away from her face.

Hermione pursed her lips stubbornly. "What makes you think that?"

Helen laughed, "Because you're blushing like mad!"

"You bloody act like you'd approve of any relationship between us, mum. He's my teacher!" Hermione said frustratingly, she buried her face in her hands once more.

"You've seen how fast things can change, Hermione. Just look at your father," she said sadly, rubbing Hermione's back. "He seems like a good man. And he won't be your Professor forever."

"People so seldom say I love you, and then it's either too late or love goes." She smiled sadly at Hermione, touching her cheek fondly. "I'm glad that neither of those were your father's and my case, but I don't want you to have to live with any "what if's," Hermione. Just do what you think is right, and whatever will make you the happiest person that you can be." And with one last pat on her daughters back, Helen got out of the car, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

* * *

"Wait a minute," Harry said, nodding in the direction of the Hogwarts gates not far from where he and Severus were still standing by the lake. "She's coming now."

Indeed, they could see a figure walking towards them, still dressed head to toe in black. It didn't take long for Hermione to reach the two of them, and when she was nearly ten feet away, Harry ran to meet her.

"Hermione, Dumbledore just told me what happened," Harry said hugging her. Without allowing her to get a word in edgewise, he continued, "I came to see you since I knew you weren't planning on going to see you parents during the break, so I thought…"

Harry continued to talk unrelentingly, but Hermione couldn't pay attention to anything that he was saying. When Harry hugged Hermione, she could see Snape over Harry's shoulder, standing a few feet off. For a moment their eyes locked and Snape scowled at her, as Harry was still embracing her. Hermione opened her mouth to try to say something, anything in order to stop Harry and his rambling, but it didn't matter. Snape had already turned away from the two of them to return to the castle.

* * *

**_This chapter took me forever and a day to write. I apologize. It's like the ideas for this chapter were slowly spoon fed to me._**

**Missing You _is actually a quite unconventional title for this chapter, in the sense that it is from the video game Kingdom Hearts. But it's such a beautifully nostalgic song that I couldn't help myself. It was composed by Hiroyuki Nakayama._**

**_Oh yes! And by the way, I have officially started my second fanfic titled "I Am Not There." Please feel free to look at it. It would make my day!  
_**

**_Please Review!  
_**


	19. Sundown

**Disclaimer: **I don't make any money off of this story. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

**Story Related A/N:** I hope the plot of this chapter isn't too random or out of the ordinary. I DO have a purpose for the events in this chapter that will play a part in Chapter 20.

* * *

**The Distance Between Us**

By ktfranceebee

Chapter 19

Sundown

Hermione couldn't help breathing a respite sigh as she leaned heavily against the Fat Lady's canvas after she shut the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room behind her.

"Huh! I cahnt breef!" A muffled voice shouted behind her. Hermione backed away from the portrait, looking at the Fat Lady oddly.

"You're a portrait. You can't breathe anyway." The Fat Lady looked offended as she rearranged the train of her dress in agitation.

"Hmph," She snorted, rather unladylike. "Well, thank you for being so tact about it." She replied tartly, spinning around with her nose upturned

Hermione rolled her eyes at the prima donna of a portrait before turning to march away.

As the dusty orange hue of dusk leaked through the windows, Hermione knew that after a day as trying as this one, all she should do is try to go to sleep earlier, or at the very least, go down to dinner to get something in her stomach; especially considering that, after four hours, she barely managed to escape Harry.

Since she returned to Hogwarts earlier that day, Hermione had been desperate to remove herself from his presence, as his constant coddling and questioning was becoming too much. She loved Harry like a brother, but she didn't need someone regularly asking her whether she was alright (he of all people should know the answer to that). What Hermione needed now was peace and quiet, or at least a quiet companion; and she knew just the place to find that person. So, with a motive in mind, she began her descent to the third floor corridor.

* * *

Severus sat idly at his piano, his fingertips lightly ghosting over the contrasting keys. He came up to the room to play, but had yet to make any music in the two hours that he had isolated himself in there. Instead, he alternated between sitting at the piano, to pacing about the room and as well as sitting down on his comfortable couch and letting his eyes roam over the lines of words in his collection of books, trying to make at least a halfhearted attempt at trying to digest its contents. A few times during his pacing, he wandered to his liquor cabinet, fingering the handles to the doors almost lovingly, before turning sharply away in a huff.

_What had come over him…? _He thought to himself as he traced the rim of the glass holding the heady amber liquid, having finally conceded defeat and pouring himself a glass or three of Firewhiskey. He felt perfectly fine when the Potter Man née Boy showed up. Albeit beforehand, he was rather perplexed as he contemplated the spontaneity as Miss Granger latched herself around his own torso earlier that morning. But it wasn't until Hermione was enveloped in the arms of the Boy Wonder that he felt a sudden burn in the back of his throat that used to only be able to associate with two things: The tantalizing liquor that he was currently partaking, and Lily and James Potter (_collectively_, mind you).

So, Severus now sat at the piano as he twirled the amber liquid in the glass with one hand, while indolently pressing middle C with the other before hearing a timid knock on the door.

Severus groaned deeply and said '_Enter'_ fully aware of who would be on the other side. He heard the gentle shuffling of feet from where he sat as the person made their way into his room.

"Hello." Severus was turned around, his piano back in its original position, facing away from the person who greeted him.

"Miss Granger," Severus replied, acknowledging her by turning his head just so. Hermione moved further towards where he sat in order to better address him, but still far enough away as to not crowd her temperamental professor.

"I wanted to thank you again, for… Well, you know… _Everything,_" She said looking down and pausing to collect her thoughts as she brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I would have sought you earlier, but Harry sure can—" Severus made a scoffing noise at the mention of her friend's name and Hermione frowned.

"Have… Have you been _drinking_?" She asked incredulously. She picked up the tumbler that he had set on top of the instrument and sniffed it. Her appalled face that followed her actions caused Severus' eyes to narrow in annoyance.

"Well, it isn't pumpkin juice, Miss Granger." Severus spat.

Hermione turned around, spying the liquor cabinet that was still ajar and stalked over towards it.

"You're unbelievable," She said contemptuously as she picked up the bottle of Firewhiskey. Severus began to stand, his eyes flashing dangerously at the notion of a student rummaging through his personal belongings, but sat back down as he began to sway slightly once he was upright.

"Was this full before I got here?" Severus only exhaled dramatically through his nose as she slightly shook the half empty bottle by its neck. "Well?" She demanded. Severus bit the inside of his cheek.

"Have you any idea how insensitive you are?" Hermione hissed in a severely low voice. "I would have thought that after the war you would have pulled yourself together, maybe find something that could make you happy, Severus…" Snape's eyes connected with hers as she said his given name for the first time. "But obviously I was wrong." She set the bottle back down with a thud before slamming the door shut with a flick of her hand.

"What is it that you're so upset about, hmmm?" She crossed her arms as she slowly started making her way back towards him. "Because whatever it is…" She trailed off swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat.

"I went to a funeral today, _Severus_," Hermione said. At first Severus was surprised, if not offended, that she addressed him, her own professor, not once but twice by his first name, but it was effective. It made him look at her—_actually look at her_—as the adult that she had become over the years. She was still a student, but she was eighteen, legally an adult, and had more sense than people twice her age; obviously more sense than him. He snapped out of his own thoughts soon enough to listen to her blunt statement.

"_I watched as my father was buried_." Severus watched guiltily as angry tears began to stream down her ruddy cheeks. She continued, "I wish it was that easy… That I could just lock myself away and pick up a bottle and drown my—" She hiccupped, "My fears, and my troubles and doubts. But I know better than that, and I would have thought that you would know better than that, as well—known that _that_ solution is only temporary."

She sniffed as she watched Professor Snape sitting stiffly, unmoving on the edge of the piano bench. Even his eyes were motionless in their sockets as he stared down at his hands gripping either on his knees. Hermione swiped her tears away with the palms of her hands and she gave Professor Snape a teary eyed, almost pitying smile that she hoped he would see out of the corner of his eyes.

"I'm tired and I want to sleep now. So I'm going to leave." She walked to the door before turning around and speaking to him in her most authoritarian voice. "Hopefully you are not intoxicated enough to forget everything that I just said by tomorrow morning. I do hope, however, that you wake up with a headache agonizing enough that you will regret your actions today when you realize that you are out of Hangover Cure, last I checked; that is unless you have some in your private stores." She tilted her head to the side. "And if that is the case, I hope you're not idiotic enough to take it." She placed her hand on the door handle, ready to leave before pausing once more.

"By the way, Professor, you still owe me a song," She reminded him softly. And with that, she walked out the door shutting it soundlessly behind her.

Severus would have much preferred her to have slammed the door shut but the fact that she didn't led him to believe that she wasn't mad at him, only disappointed. He would have preferred the former.

Severus stood and carefully walked towards the other side of the room, and he closed his eyes slowly; his eyes which were now level to the cabinet where Hermione just stood.

He pulled the doors open, grimacing at the drinks inside: His Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, mulled mead, and an unopened bottle of elf-made wine. Without thinking, Severus pulled out his wand and pointed it at each of the bottles in succession, quietly saying _Evanesco _each time. He was about to store his wand back into his robe when he saw a vial of murky purple liquid laying innocuously behind where the alcoholic beverages used to be. He smirked, picking it up and vanishing it as he did the others.

Severus wasn't worried about the horrendous headache he would be graced with tomorrow, or the fact that he just vanished his last vial of Hangover Cure, he could only think of how he would thank Hermione tomorrow for her impressive dialogue. Still too inebriated to bother to care why he was suddenly concerned about being in Hermione's good graces, he toed off his shoes, collapsing on the couch just as the last ray of sun disappeared behind the surrounding mountains, already knowing how he would make it up to her tomorrow.

* * *

**_What is this? An update? How on earth..._**

**_Hey everyone! Sorry for the super long hiatus. I can explain. _**

**_If anyone here has seen the incredible Harry Potter Musical, you will know the name Darren Criss. Me, being the Darren Criss fan girl that I am heard that he was going to be on the show Glee. I've never watched Glee, only hearing superb things about it from a friend of mine so I decided to watch it..._**

**_And that's where I've been these 56 days. Addicted... to Glee... Watching it like a crazy person whilst joining into the awesomeness that is show choir as well as reading and writing Glee Fanfiction :D_**

**_So if you are a Glee/Kurt/Dave fan, PLEASE check out my newest story, "Ever the Same." I think you will enjoy it. Anyways..._**

**_The title of this chapter, _Sundown_, is a piano piece by the wonderful Jim Brickman._**

**_As always, I will say_ "Please Review!"_ and _"My Apologies" _for the long wait. ;)  
_**


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